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Page 12
On the day on which our narrative has commenced, the
usual fishing party had ascended the river at an early
hour, for the newness of the season and the shortness of
the days rendered it an object that they should be on
the accustomed haunt as soon as possible. They had left
the Fort at daylight, passing Heywood's farm at the moment
when, for the purpose of foddering the cattle on the
opposite bank, he, with the boy Wilton, was crossing to
the very canoe in which Ephraim Giles afterwards made
his escape--the latter with the Canadian, being engaged
in felling trees higher up the river.
Arrived at the little bay to which we have just adverted,
the boat was fastened to the gnarled trunk of a tree,
which projected over the deep water at the nearest point,
and the party, taking with them their fishing rods, baits,
and haversacks, but leaving their spears and muskets in
the boat, dispersed themselves at short distances along
the curve that formed the bay, which, however, was not
more than three hundred yards in extent, from point to
point.
When they first cast their lines into the water, the
sun's rays were clearly visible through the thick wood
in their rear. The early morning, too, had been cold--almost
frosty--so much so, that the wild ducks, which generally
evinced a good deal of shyness, NOW, seemingly emboldened
by the briskness of the atmosphere, could be seen gliding
about in considerable numbers, about half a mile below
them; while the fish, on the contrary, as though
dissatisfied with the temperature of their element,
refused to do what the men called "the amiable," by
approaching the hook. Their occupation had been continued
until long past mid-day, during which time not more than
a dozen fish had been taken. Vexed at his ill luck, for
he had not had even a nibble, one of the men flung his
rod upon the bank, impatiently, and then, seating himself
on the projecting root of a large tree, declared it was
all nonsense to play the fool any longer, and that the
most sensible thing they could do, was to take their
dinners--smoke their pipes--and wash the whole down with
a little of the Monongahela.
"I say, Collins," remarked the corporal, good-naturedly,
"we shall have poor fare for the officers' mess, let
alone our own, if we all follow your example, and give
up so soon. But, as you say, it's time to have some grub,
and we'll try our luck afterwards."
"Rome wasn't built in a day," said the man who had been
fishing next to Collins, and drawing in his line also,
"we've a good many hours left yet."
Following the recommendation of the corporal, the rest
of the party sat down on the edge of the bank, and,
opening their haversacks, produced each his allowance
of corn bread and venison, or salted pork, after dispatching
which, with the aid of their clasp knives, they took a
refreshing "horn" from the general canteen that Collins
carried suspended over his shoulder, and then drew forth
and lighted their pipes.
As the latter puffed away with a vigor that proved either
a preoccupied mind, or extreme gratification with the
weed, he cast his eyes carelessly down the stream, where
a large description of duck, called by the French natives
of the country, the cou rouge, from the color of their
necks, were disporting themselves as though nothing in
the shape of a fire arm was near them--now diving--now
rising on their feet, and shaking their outstretched
wings, now chasing each other in limited circles, and
altogether so apparently emboldened by their immunity
from interruption, as to come close to the bank, at a
distance of little more than fifty yards from the spot
where he sat.
"It's very ridiculous," he at length remarked, pouring
forth at the same time, an unusual volume of smoke, and
watching the curling eddies as they rose far above his
head--"it's very ridiculous, I say, the captin's order
that we sha'nt fire. Look at them ducks--how they seem
to know all about it, too!"
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