The Wilderness Castaways. Dillon Wallace

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “What pigs they must be!”

      “No, ’tis just th’ way they always been used to doin’. They has wonderful hard times t’ get things t’ eat sometimes.”

      At the end of an hour Remington and Ainsworth returned.

      “Not a strike,” said Remington, “though I’m certain there are plenty of salmon in the stream. We’re a little far north for them to take the fly. But Ainsworth got our dinner. That’s something.”

      “Ran into a bunch of ptarmigans,” said Ainsworth, holding up a half dozen birds.

      “How are you making out with the huskies, Tom?” asked Remington of Tom, who had joined them.

      “Kuglutuk, th’ old un, sir, will go with us. He’s ready to start any time, sir. We has t’ land him at Cape Smith or Cape Wolstenholm, sir, when we comes back.”

      “All right, Tom. Can’t we get brush enough around here to broil these grouse and make some coffee? I’m famished.”

      “Yes, sir. Dan, get th’ axe, b’y, an’ put on a fire, whilst I dresses th’ birds.”

      When Tom drew the birds, to Paul’s amazement the Eskimos gathered up the entrails, placed them on the end of a stick, broiled them slightly over the fire Dan had lighted, and ate them as they might a delicacy.

      “Well, I never!” exclaimed Paul. “I’d starve before I’d do that!”

      “Maybe,” said Tom, “but I’m thinkin’ you’d eat un an’ like un if you was hungry enough. They’s no tellin’ what a man’ll eat. Th’ huskies eats un because they likes un, an’ entrails ain’t so bad, an’ you gets used t’ un, though I’m hopin’ you’ll never have t’ eat un, lad.”

      “I never would,” positively asserted Paul. “I’d die first.”

      Luncheon eaten, they bade adieu to the Eskimos, shaking hands again all around. Kuglutuk, his kayak in tow, took his place in the power boat, “Oksunae” was shouted by those afloat and those on land, and the little settlement was quickly lost sight of around the point at the entrance of the cove.

      On board the North Star again, a conference was held as to the most probable point at which salmon and trout could be found, Tom acting as interpreter. It was at length decided, upon Kuglutuk’s recommendation, to visit the rivers flowing into Richmond Gulf, which, considerably farther south, offered greater promise that salmon would take the fly, though Kuglutuk assured them that both varieties of fish abounded in all the streams of the coast.

      Three days later found the North Star in the latitude of Richmond Gulf, and with much careful maneuvering under the guidance of Kuglutuk, and with frequent heaving of the lead, a safe anchorage was found in Nastapoka Sound, behind the islands which shut out the wider sea beyond.

      The entrance to Richmond Gulf is an exceedingly narrow, treacherous channel, through which Kuglutuk declared no vessel so large as the North Star could pass in safety. Through this channel he said the rising and ebbing tide poured with so terrific a rush of the waters that dangerous whirlpools were formed, which rendered its safe passage for kayaks and small craft impossible save at the time of the turning of the tide.

      It was late afternoon when the ship made her anchorage, and it was decided to prepare for the passage of the dangerous strait in the power boat when the tide should reach flood at ten o’clock the next morning.

      Kuglutuk, Tom Hand and Dan Rudd were to accompany the three sportsmen, and it was planned that the party should carry a full camping equipment, and remain at the head of Richmond Gulf one week.

      The weather was propitious—mild, clear, delightful. This was to be Paul’s first experience in camp. Before him lay a rugged, unpeopled, unknown wilderness. He was to enter it and be a part of it. The romance of it thrilled him, and he lay awake that night a long while, feasting anticipation and imagination, too restless to sleep.

      CHAPTER IV

      THE WILDERNESS PRIMEVAL

      THE passage of the channel leading into Richmond Gulf was accomplished without adventure, and within the gulf the power boat took a northeasterly direction, passing several small islands. Many wild ducks, gulls and other water fowl and birds flew about the islands, hovered over the water or rested upon the waves.

      Presently Kuglutuk turned the boat into the mouth of a river, and ascending the stream for a little distance, against a strong current, made a landing near the foot of a rushing, tumultuous rapid.

      “Tom,” declared Remington, when they were ashore, “I’m as hungry as seven bears. Fry some bacon and make some coffee, won’t you, before you pitch the tents?”

      “Aye, aye, sir. We’ll put on a fire an’ have un ready in a jiffy. Dan, b’y, bring up the things from the boat.”

      “Come fellows, we’ll get our rods up while Tom’s getting dinner,” suggested Remington. “I’m aching to try my luck.”

      “Which of these rods shall I use?” asked Paul. “I never used a rod in my life, and I guess you’ll have to show me.”

      “Try this one,” selecting a good weight steel fly rod. “That’s got strength, and if you strike a big one you’re not so likely to break it as that lighter one. You’ll be able to handle the lighter one after some practice.”

      In the meantime Tom cut a pole about eight feet in length, sharpened the butt, which he jabbed firmly into the earth, inclined it at an angle over a fire which Kuglutuk had kindled with moss and dead sticks, and in such a position that the upper end of the stick came directly over the blaze. On this he hung a kettle of water. Then he sliced bacon. In ten minutes the water had boiled, coffee was made, the kettle removed from the stick, placed close to the fire on the ground, and the bacon sizzling in the pan.

      “Oh, cracky!” said Paul, sniffing the air, “that’s the best thing I ever smelled.”

      “Doesn’t it smell bully!” exclaimed Remington. “I thought I’d have time to make a cast or two before Tom was ready for us, but he’s been too quick for me.”

      “Now,” said Remington, when they were through eating, “we’ll see if there are any hungry fish in that pool.”

      Paul looked on while the older sportsmen made one or two casts. Then he attempted it, at first very clumsily, but gradually improving. He was not very enthusiastic, however.

      “I don’t see any fun in this,” he said finally.

      “Keep at it, and you’ll learn,” encouraged Remington.

      At that moment “whiz-z-z” and Ainsworth’s reel fairly hummed, with forty yards of line run out before he could check it—a flash of spray—a great silver bar in the air! The leap was full two feet! Splash! It doubled, demanded more line, fought as only a salmon can fight, the supple steel rod bent and curved, but the angler, his face tense with excitement, held his advantage.

      “Good! Bully!” shouted Remington with each play. “Look out! That’s the way! Easy! That’s it!”

      Again and again the fish fought for the head of the rapid, but at length, conquered, it was drawn in, and with Remington’s assistance landed—a fine big salmon.

      “That СКАЧАТЬ