The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 28

They felt compelled to give up the search. As they returned to the camp the firing on the opposite side of the lake broke out anew. At the distance, however, it was not loud enough to disturb the other three, who still slept in the tent. d.i.c.k flashed the lantern inside to make sure that the sleepers were safe.

At intervals the racket across the lake broke out anew.

"It's my turn to go on watch again," said Darry, glancing at his watch by the light of the lantern. "You two might as well turn in."

"We'll dress and bring our cots out into the open," d.i.c.k proposed.

"You might as well have us, Dave, where you can get us instantly, and ready for action, by just touching us on the shoulder."

But the night pa.s.sed, without any further disturbances than the occasional distant firing, and the rousing, every hour, of a new watchman for the camp.

It was past seven in the morning when d.i.c.k finally turned out, to find Greg and Harry busy preparing breakfast, while Darrin still slumbered.

"Where are Tom and Dan?" Prescott asked.

"Look through the trees, and presently you'll discover them out in the canoe," answered Greg. "Tom simply couldn't wait any longer to go out after ba.s.s."

"I'm going trout fis.h.i.+ng, if I can do it without s.h.i.+rking," said d.i.c.k, as he rose and stretched.

"And if no one kicks I'm going with you," added Darrin, opening his eyes. "How about it, Greg? Are you and Harry willing to do the camp watch this morning?"

Greg had turned around eagerly, seeing which, Hazelton broke in:

"Go right along with 'em, Holmesy, if they'll take you. There won't be much to do in camp after, the dishes are washed."

"But it's rather a shame to leave you alone," hinted Greg wistfully.

He wanted, with all his heart, to see some of the rare sport that d.i.c.k had described, but he didn't want to be unfair to anyone.

"I won't be lonesome," protested Hazelton. "We have some good books along, and I can read one of them."

"But what if the camp should be molested?" asked Greg. "You know, there is at least the Man with the Haunting Face, and there may be others."

"Whoever tries to molest this camp will be molested in his turn, I promise you," laughed Harry. "I'm no weakling, so run right along, Holmesy. Even if serious trouble should arise, I have this, you know."

He produced a long-barreled fish horn that he had used in celebrating the night before the Fourth of July.

"Two or three loud blasts on this bugle would carry a long way, and you fellows would know what I wanted," finished Hazelton.

"All right, then, I'll go," said Greg, his face beaming.

"We've trout flies in plenty, you know," d.i.c.k went on, "but we've only two poles that are suited to trouting, so we'll have to take turns."

"You may keep one pole all the time. d.i.c.k," suggested Darry.

"Greg and I can take turns with the other pole."

"That will hardly be fair to you two," replied d.i.c.k, with a shake of his head.

"It wouldn't be fair to the whole crowd to take your pole away from you any part of the time," retorted Greg. "Remember, d.i.c.k, you are the expert trout fisherman of the party, and all the fellows want some more trout. We'll never forget those of last night."

Greg and Hazelton now had breakfast ready. It was eaten rather hastily, after which all hands fell to setting things to rights.

"Here, come out of the tent," called Hazelton, as d.i.c.k started inside to use a broom there. "You fellows are the providers, and I can do the little housework that's left to do."

So d.i.c.k, Dave and Greg brought out their long-legged rubber boots and got into them with little delay. Then there came a sorting of flies, and the rigging of lines and reels. Within a few minutes the three were ready to start out.

As they went up the stream d.i.c.k cut and trimmed two crotched sticks on which to string the fish they might catch.

"That looks almost boastful," chuckled Dave. "It looks as though we thought it a cinch that we're going to get a lot of trout."

"It all depends on us," Prescott rejoined. "The brook is simply full of trout, that we can catch if we display the requisite amount of skill. The mystery to me is that this brook has escaped the knowledge of the trout fishermen in Gridley. Not even Mr. Morton ever heard of this stream."

"Well, Mr. Morton can't be expected to know everything," argued Greg. "He's already the most capable sub-master in Gridley High School and the finest coach the Gridley football squad ever had."

"He's also an A No.1 trout fisherman," d.i.c.k went on. "Fellows, we mustn't tell everyone about this trout stream, but Mr. Morton is such an all around fine fellow that I think we owe it to him to tell him, when we see him, just how to reach this brook."

"If the real estate men of Gridley knew of this place," laughed Greg, "they'd buy up the ground around here and then sell bungalows at fancy prices to amateur fishermen of means."

"And then the brook would soon cease to be a trout stream," retorted young Prescott. "A large proportion of the trout would be caught within a few days, and the rest of 'em scared away to safer breeding grounds. The only way to keep a trout stream in working order is not to let many people know about it. It sounds selfish, but it's good sportsmans.h.i.+p."

d.i.c.k soon halted, eyeing a pool so deep that its bottom could not be seen.

"This looks like a good place to start in," he announced. "I believe I'll go a little way up stream, and then whip down past this pool and below. Now, talk only in whispers, if you can remember, fellows. Trout are shy creatures. Has either of you ever fished for trout before?"

Both Dave and Greg shook their heads.

"Then I think you had better watch me for a while, and catch some of the knack of it," their leader advised. "Notice particularly how I whip. If I get a nibble, then note, particularly, that I don't make an immediate effort to land the trout. I play the line out a bit and let him play with the fly, and beat about and get himself better imbedded on the hook. When I am sure I have him well hooked, then you'll see the peculiar motion with which I bring him out of the water and throw him on the ground. That landing trick is one that you need to get just so. Study it, and develop it. Don't be disappointed if you lose quite a few trout. You will lose them often until you get the hang of the thing."

Some distance above the pool d.i.c.k stepped into the water. He walked along slowly, not stirring up much dirt from the bottom.

All the time he kept his line behind him, frequently lifting it and whipping it into the water again. The gayly colored flies and the glistening spoon just above the hook flashed in the sunlight every time he made a whipping cast.

Not twenty feet had d.i.c.k gone when he felt a sudden, violent tug.

With the true patience of the trout fisherman, d.i.c.k didn't become at all excited. His hand on the reel, he let the line fly out as the finny captive darted up stream.

Presently d.i.c.k played the fish in gently, then suddenly gave it plenty of slack line. These tactics were repeated, while Dave and Greg almost danced in their eagerness.

Suddenly d.i.c.k flipped his pole sharply. There was a swish of line in the air. Something speckled and glistening dropped on the ground at least ten feet from the brook, where it lay floundering and gasping.

"Hoo-ray!" yelled Greg, with all his pent-up enthusiasm.

"Do that again, Holmesy, and I'll chase you back into camp," warned d.i.c.k, with his patient smile. Then he stepped ash.o.r.e, took the trout from the line and impaled it on a stick, which he gave Greg to carry.

Within two minutes there was another strike. The same patient tactics, and d.i.c.k had another trout---this time a two-pounder as against about three quarters of a pound for the weight of the first trout.

The third trout got away, despite the most careful handling, but the fourth and fifth biters were soon landed.

"I can't stand this any longer," quivered Dave. "I've got to start in. Where do you want me to go, d.i.c.k?"

"Better go about a quarter of a mile upstream," Prescott suggested, "and then work down this way. Greg can go along with you and carry the stick for your string. I'll look out for my own string."