Rudder Grange — Ch. 9: We Camp Out, pt. 2
I went a short distance up the creek, and threw my line into a dark, shadowy pool, under some alders, where there certainly should be fish.
And, sure enough, in less than a minute I got a splendid bite,--not only a bite, but a pull.
I knew that I had certainly hooked a big fish!
The thing actually tugged at my line so that I was afraid the pole would break.
I did not fear for the line, for that, I knew, was strong.
I
would have played the fish until he was tired, and I could pull him out without risk to the pole, but I did not know exactly how the process of “playing” was conducted.
I was very much excited.
Sometimes I gave a jerk and a pull, and then the fish would give a jerk and a pull.
Directly I heard some one running toward me, and then I heard Euphemia cry out: “Give him the butt!
Give him the butt!
” “Give him what?
” I exclaimed, without having time even to look up at her.
“The butt!
the butt!
” she cried, almost breathlessly.
“I know that's right!
I read how Edward Everett Hale did it in the Adirondacks.
” “No, it wasn't Hale at all,” said I, as I jumped about the bank; “it was Mr. Murray.
” “Well, it was one of those fishing ministers, and I know that it caught the fish.
” “I know, I know.
I read it, but I don't know how to do it.
” “Perhaps you ought to punch him with it,” said she.
“No!
no!
” I hurriedly replied, “I can't do anything like that.
I'm going to try to just pull him out lengthwise.
You take hold of the pole and go in shore as far as you can and I'll try and get hold of the line.
” Euphemia did as I bade her, and drew the line in so that I could reach it.
As soon as I had a firm hold of it, I pulled in, regardless of consequences, and hauled ashore an enormous cat-fish.
“Hurrah!
” I shouted, “here is a prize.
” Euphemia dropped the pole, and ran to me.
“What a horrid beast!
” she exclaimed.
“Throw it in again.
” “Not at all!
” said I. “This is a splendid fish, if I can ever get him off the hook.
Don't come near him!
If he sticks that back-fin into you, it will poison you.
” “Then I should think it would poison us to eat him,” said she.
“No; it's only his fin.
” “I've eaten cat-fish, but I never saw one like that,” she said.
“Look at its horrible mouth!
And it has whiskers like a cat!
” “Oh!
you never saw one with its head on,” I said.
“What I want to do is to get this hook out.
” I had caught cat-fish before, but never one so large as this, and I was actually afraid to take hold of it, knowing, as I did, that you must be very careful how you clutch a fish of the kind.
I finally concluded to carry it home as it was, and then I could decapitate it, and take out the hook at my leisure.
So back to camp we went, Euphemia picking up the little fish as we passed, for she did not think it right to catch fish and not eat them.
They made her hands smell, it is true; but she did not mind that when we were camping.
I prepared the big fish (and I had a desperate time getting the skin off), while my wife, who is one of the daintiest cooks in the world, made the fire in the stove, and got ready the rest of the supper.
She fried the fish, because I told her that was the way cat-fish ought to be cooked, although she said that it seemed very strange to her to camp out for the sake of one's health, and then to eat fried food.
But that fish was splendid!
The very smell of it made us hungry.
Everything was good, and when supper was over and the dishes washed, I lighted my pipe and we sat down under a tree to enjoy the evening.
The sun had set behind the distant ridge; a delightful twilight was gently subduing every color of the scene; the night insects were beginning to hum and chirp, and a fire that I had made under a tree blazed up gayly, and threw little flakes of light into the shadows under the shrubbery.
“Now isn't this better than being cooped up in a narrow, constricted house?
” said I. “Ever so much better!
” said Euphemia.
“Now we know what Nature is.
We are sitting right down in her lap, and she is cuddling us up.
Isn't that sky lovely?
Oh!
I think this is perfectly splendid,” said she, making a little dab at her face,--“if it wasn't for the mosquitoes.
” “They ARE bad,” I said.
“I thought my pipe would keep them off, but it don't. There must be plenty of them down at that creek.
” “Down there!
” exclaimed Euphemia.
“Why there are thousands of them here!
I never saw anything like it.
They're getting worse every minute.
” “I'll tell you what we must do,” I exclaimed, jumping up.
“We must make a smudge.
” “What's that?
do you rub it on yourself?
” asked Euphemia, anxiously.
“No, it's only a great smoke.
Come, let us gather up dry leaves and make a smoldering fire of them.
” We managed to get up a very fair smudge, and we stood to the leeward of it, until Euphemia began to cough and sneeze, as if her head would come off.
With tears running from her eyes, she declared that she would rather go and be eaten alive, than stay in that smoke.
“Perhaps we were too near it,” said I. “That may be,” she answered, “but I have had enough smoke.
Why didn't I think of it before?
I brought two veils!
We can put these over our faces, and wear gloves.
” She was always full of expedients.
Veiled and gloved, we bade defiance to the mosquitoes, and we sat and talked for half an hour or more.
I made a little hole in my veil, through which I put the mouth-piece of my pipe.
When it became really dark, I lighted the lantern, and we prepared for a well-earned night's rest.
The tent was spacious and comfortable, and we each had a nice little cot-bed.
“Are you going to leave the front-door open all night?
” said Euphemia, as I came in after a final round to see that all was right.
“I should hardly call this canvas-flap a front-door,” I said, “but I think it would be better to leave it open; otherwise we should smother.
You need not be afraid.
I shall keep my gun here by my bedside, and if any one offers to come in, I'll bring him to a full stop quick enough.
” “Yes, if you are awake.
But I suppose we ought not to be afraid of burglars here.
People in tents never are.
So you needn't shut it.
” It was awfully quiet and dark and lonely, out there by that creek, when the light had been put out, and we had gone to bed.
For some reason I could not go to sleep.
After I had been lying awake for an hour or two, Euphemia spoke: “Are you awake?
” said she, in a low voice, as if she were afraid of disturbing the people in the next room.
“Yes,” said I. “How long have you been awake?
” “I haven't been asleep.
” “Neither have I. ” “Suppose we light the lantern,” said she.
“Don't you think it would be pleasanter?
” “It might be,” I replied; “but it would draw myriads of mosquitoes.
I wish I had brought a mosquito-net and a clock.
It seems so lonesome without the ticking.
Good-night!
We ought to have a long sleep, if we do much tramping about to-morrow.
” In about half an hour more, just as I was beginning to be a little sleepy, she said: “Where is that gun?
” “Here by me,” I answered.
“Well, if a man should come in, try and be sure to put it up close to him before you fire.
In a little tent like this, the shot might scatter everywhere, if you're not careful.
” “All right,” I said.
“Good-night!
” “There's one thing we never thought of!
” she presently exclaimed.
“What's that,” said I. “Snakes,” said she.
“Well, don't let's think of them.
We must try and get a little sleep.
” “Dear knows!
I've been trying hard enough,” she said, plaintively, and all was quiet again.
We succeeded this time in going to sleep, and it was broad daylight before we awoke.
That morning, old John came with our water before breakfast was ready.
He also brought us some milk, as he thought we would want it.
We considered this a good idea, and agreed with him to bring us a quart a day.
“Don't you want some wegetables?
” said he.
“I've got some nice corn and some tomatoes, and I could bring you cabbage and peas.
” We had hardly expected to have fresh vegetables every day, but there seemed to be no reason why old John should not bring them, as he had to come every day with the water and milk.
So we arranged that he should furnish us daily with a few of the products of his garden.
“I could go to the butcher's and get you a steak or some chops, if you'd let me know in the morning,” said he, intent on the profits of further commissions.
But this was going too far.
We remembered we were camping out, and declined to have meat from the butcher.
John had not been gone more than ten minutes before we saw Mr. Ball approaching.
“Oh, I hope he isn't going to say we can't stay!
” exclaimed Euphemia.
“How d'ye do?
” said Mr. Ball, shaking hands with us.
“Did you stick it out all night?
” “Oh yes, indeed,” I replied, “and expect to stick it out for a many more nights if you don't object to our occupying your land.
” “No objection in the world,” said he; “but it seems a little queer for people who have a good house to be living out here in the fields in a tent, now, don't it?
” “Oh, but you see,” said I, and I went on and explained the whole thing to him,--the advice of the doctor, the discussion about the proper place to go to, and the good reasons for fixing on this spot.
“Ye-es,” said he, “that's all very well, no doubt.
But how's the girl?
” “What girl?
” I asked.
“Your girl.
The hired girl you left at the house.
” “Oh, she's all right,” said I; “she's always well.
” “Well,” said Mr. Ball, slowly turning on his heel, “if you say so, I suppose she is.
But you're going up to the house to-day to see about her, aren't you?
” “Oh, no,” said Euphemia.
“We don't intend to go near the house until our camping is over.
” “Just so,--just so,” said Mr. Ball; “I expected as much.
But look here, don't you think it would be well for me to ask Dr. Ames to stop in and see how she is gettin' along?
I dare say you've fixed everything for her, but that would be safer, you know.
He's coming this morning to vaccinate my baby, and he might stop there, just as well as not, after he has left my house.
” Euphemia and I could see no necessity for this proposed visit of the doctor, but we could not well object to it, and so Mr. Ball said he would be sure and send him.
After our visitor had gone, the significance of his remarks flashed on me.
He still thought that Pomona was sick with something catching, and that we were afraid to stay in the house with her.
But I said nothing about this to Euphemia.
It would only worry her, and our vacation was to be a season of unalloyed delight.
