Part 16 (2/2)

Now, if we had watches it would be so much simpler: we could meet here at, say, one oclock.

Simple, indeed! When did you ever look at a watch when you were fis.h.i.+ng, unless I made you? No, my way is simple, but we stay together.

Of course, in river fis.h.i.+ng, together means simply not absolutely out of sight of each other. Jonathan may be up to his arm-pits in mid-current, or marooned on a rock above a swirling eddy, while I am in a similar situation beyond calling distance, but so long as a bend in the river does not cut us off, we are together, and very companionable togetherness it is, too. When I see Jonathan wildly waving to attract my attention, I know he has either just caught a big ba.s.s or else just lost one, and this gives me something to smile over as I wonder which it is. After a time, if I am catching s.h.i.+ners and no ba.s.s, and Jonathan doesnt seem to be moving, I infer that his luck is better than mine, and drift along toward him. Or it may be the other way around, and he comes to look me up. Ba.s.s are the most uncertain of fish, and no one can predict when they will elect to bite, or where. Sometimes they are in the still water, deep or shallow according to their caprice; sometimes they hang on the edges of the rapids; sometimes they are in the dark, smooth eddies below the great boulders; sometimes in the clear depths around the rocks near sh.o.r.e. Each day afresh,indeed, each morning and each afternoon,the fisherman must try, and try, and try, until he discovers what their choice has been for that special time. Yet no fisherman who has once drawn out a good ba.s.s from a certain bit of water can help feeling, next time, that there is another waiting for him there. That is one of the reasons why he is always hopeful, and so always happy. The fish he has caught, at this well-remembered spot and that, rise up out of the past and flick their tails at him; and all the stretches betweenstretches of water that have never for him held anything but s.h.i.+ners, stretches of time diversified by not even a nibblesink into pleasant insignificance.

We banked our fire, stowed everything in the tent that a thunderstorm would hurt, and splashed out into the river. There it lay in all its bright, swift beauty, and we stood a moment, looking, feeling the push of the water about our knees and the warmth of the sun on our shoulders.

It makes a difference, sleeping out in it all, I said. You feel as if it belonged to you so much more. I quite own the river this morning, dont you?

Quite. But not the ba.s.s in it. Bet you dont catch one!

Bet I beat you!

Ba.s.s, mind you. Sunfish dont count. Youre always catching sunfish.

They count in the pan. But Ill beat you on ba.s.s. I know some places

Who doesnt? All right, go ahead!

We were off; Jonathan, as usual, wading up to his chest or perched on a bit of boulder above some dark, slick rapid; I preferring water not more than waist-deep, and not too far from sh.o.r.e to miss the responses of the wood-folk to my pa.s.sing: soft flurries of wings; shy, half-suppressed peepings; quick warning notes; light footfalls, hopping or running or galloping; the snapping of twigs and the crus.h.i.+ng of leaves. Some sounds tell me who the creature is,the warning of the blue jay, the whirr of the big ruffed grouse, the thud of the bounding rabbit,but many others leave me guessing, which is almost better. When a very big stick snaps, I always feel sure a deer is stealing away, though Jonathan a.s.sures me that a chewink can break twigs and kick up a row generally, so that youd swear it was nothing smaller than a wild bull.

So we fished that day. When I caught a ba.s.s, which was seldom, I whooped and waved it at Jonathan, and when I caught a s.h.i.+ner, which was rather often, I waved it too, just to keep his mind occupied. Hours pa.s.sed, and we met at a bend in the river where the deep water glides close to sh.o.r.e.

Hungry? I asked.

Now you speak of it, yes.

Shall we go back?

How can I tell? Now, if we only had that watch wed know whether we ought to be hungry or not.

What does that matter, if we _are_ hungry? Besides, if youd had a watch, youd have had to carry it in your teeth. You know perfectly well you wouldnt have brought it, anyway.

Wellthen, at least when we got back, we should have known whether we ought to have been hungry or not. Now we shall never know.

Never! Oh! Look there, Jonathan! Were going to catch it! A sense of growing shadow in the air had made me look up, and there, back of the steep-rising woods, hung a blue-black cloud, with ragged edges crawling out into the brightness of the sky.

Sure enough! The ba.s.sll bite now, if it really comes. Wait till the first drops, and see what you see.

We had not long to wait. There came that sudden expectancy in the air and the trees, the strange pallor in the light, the chill sweep of wind gusts with warm pauses between. Then a few big drops splashed on the dusty, sun-baked stones about us.

Now! Wade right out there, to the edge of that ledgedont slip over, its deep. Ill go down a little way.

I waded out carefully, and cast, in the smooth, dark water already beginning to be rain-pocked. It was surprisingly s.h.i.+very, that storm wind!

I glanced toward sh.o.r.e to look for shelterI remembered an overhanging ledge of rockthen my line went taut! I forgot about shelter, forgot about being chilly; I knew it was a good ba.s.s.

I got him intoo big to go through the hole in my creelcast for anotherand anotherand yet another. The rain began to fall in sheets, and the wind nearly blew me over, but who could run away from such fis.h.i.+ng?

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