CHAPTER VIII
SALMON SPEARING
When the boys came in for breakfast next morning Jake was standing inthe kitchen, and Miss Oliver sat opposite him looking unusuallythoughtful.
"What's the matter?" Harry asked.
Jake turned toward him slowly.
"I don't know that there's anything very wrong," he said. "Leader's comeback."
Leader was the name of one of the missing horses, and Frank started ashe remembered what the storekeeper had said, but feeling Miss Oliver'seyes upon him, turned his head and looked out into the clearing.
"Where's Tillicum?" inquired Harry.
"That," replied Jake, "is more than I can tell. Leader was standingoutside the stable when I went along and I can't make out why the otherhorse wasn't with him. He'd have come with Leader if anybody had turnedthem into the trail together."
Harry called to Frank and went out of the door. Jake followed them tothe stable, where they found the horse looking rather jaded, but exceptfor that very little the worse. Jake nodded reassuringly when Harry hadfelt him over.
"No sign of anything wrong," he said. "There was a good deal of driedmud on him before I fixed him up, and he seemed mighty keen on his corn.They hadn't given him very much."
"What do you make of it?" Harry asked.
"About as much as you do," answered Jake. "They turned him loose on thetrail when they'd done with him, and that's all there is to it. I guessthe question is what they've done with Tillicum. One thing's certain. Ifhe doesn't turn up, your father's going to be mighty mad."
Harry agreed that this would be very probable, though he did not thinkhis father would show it. As there was nothing more to be said they wentback to the house, where, somewhat to their relief, Miss Oliver made noallusion to the affair, and they proceeded quietly to eat breakfast.
"Are there any spring salmon in the river?" she asked presently, lookingacross at Harry.
"Yes," he responded, "there are a few coming up."
"Then you might take Frank with you this morning and try to get me one.I dare say Jake will smoke it." Miss Oliver smiled at Frank. "You don'tget salmon prepared that way back East."
"We have it canned," said Frank. "I've an idea I've seen some smoked,but I can't remember. Is it very nice? I thought you didn't care forsalmon here."
"Fresh salmon," Jake said curtly, "is only good for hogs, and if youkeep it long enough, for growing potatoes with. Still," he addedthoughtfully, "I don't know that you call it fresh then."
Miss Oliver laughed. "Wait until you try it smoked--as Jake does it. Hecan prepare it as some of the Siwash do. I believe they taught him inBritish Columbia."
Jake shook his head solemnly. "No," he said, "I can't cure salmon assome of the Indians do. You'd get nothing like it in a New York hotel,but I guess I can dress it 'most as well as any white man. You go alongand get me a fish, Harry. I'd try the pool by the big fall."
They set out a few minutes later, taking with them a pole which had abig iron hook lashed to it and a long Indian salmon spear. There was asmall fork at one end of the latter on which were placed two nicelymade bone barbs attached to the haft by strips of sinew. Harry removedthem to show Frank that they would slip off their sockets easily.Leaving the clearing, they struck into a narrow trail through the bush,and after half an hour's scramble over fallen logs and through thickfern they reached the river.
It poured frothing out of shadowy forest and leaped over a rock ledge ina thundering fall, beneath which it swirled around a deep basin, andthen after sweeping down a white rapid, spread out over a wide belt ofstones. There were rocks on either side of it, and, as the trees couldfind no hold on them, warm sunlight streamed down upon the foamingwater. Harry sat down on a ledge above the pool with the spear besidehim and pointed to a great bird wheeling on slanted wings above theshallow.
"A fish eagle," he said. "Here are salmon making up."
Frank watched the circling of the majestic bird, which did not seem muchafraid of them. It had a white head and a cruel beak, and once when itswept over him he noticed the fixed gaze of its cold, impassive eye.Splendid as it was, he somehow shrank from the thing. It looked sopowerful and utterly merciless. When it stopped in the air, dropped, andstruck, he saw a splash as a writhing, silvery creature was snatched upin its talons.
"Got him wrong!" cried Harry. "You watch. He'll have to let go again."
So far as Frank could see, the eagle had seized the salmon by the middleof its back, the fish twisting itself crossways as it was carried upinto the air. The next moment there was a splash in the water and thebird swooped down again. When it rose it held its prey differently, andFrank fancied he could see one wicked claw gripping the fish close bythe back of its neck, while the other was spread out toward its tail.In any case, the salmon did not seem able to wriggle now, and the eagleflew off with it and vanished among the tops of the black firs.
"Not a big fish, but I've a notion the eagle could lift a thing as heavyas itself," said Harry. "They're mighty powerful. It might be the one hedropped, though I think it's another."
Frank had no idea how much an eagle weighed, but he realized somethingof the capabilities of a bird that could carry off this fish apparentlywithout an effort, and, what was more astonishing, drag the tremendouslymuscular creature out of the water which was its home. Then hiscompanion touched his shoulder.
"Watch those two fellows in the eddy," said he. "They're going to rushthe fall."
Frank saw two slim shadows shoot out beneath a wreath of circling foamand flash--which seemed the best word for it--through the crystal depthsof the slacker part of the pool. They were lost in the snowy turmoilnear the foot of the fall, and a few minutes passed before he saw themagain. Then one shot out of the water like a bow that had suddenlystraightened itself, gleamed resplendent with silver, and plunged intothe foam again. Harry pointed him out the other, and though it was amoment or two before he could see it he marveled when he did. It had itsdusky back toward him, for now and then the dorsal fin rose clear, andit was swimming up a thin cascade which poured down a steep slope ofstone. That any creature should have strength enough to stem that rushof water seemed incredible, but there was no doubt that the fish wasascending inch by inch. Then it found a momentary harbor in a littlepool just outside the main leap of the fall, and shot out of it againwith its curious uncurving spring. Frank watched it eagerly when itdropped into the fall, and it was with a sense of sympathy that he sawits gallant efforts wasted as it was suddenly swept down. Beforereaching the bottom, however, it had evidently rallied all its powers,for it flashed clear into the sunlight, and had recovered a fathom whenhe lost sight of it once more.
After that he glanced back toward the shallows and saw that other birdshad appeared. He did not know what they were, and Harry could only tellhim that they were fishhawks of some kind. As he watched them wheelingor stooping, dropping upon the sparkling stream, and screaming now andthen, the boy began to form some idea of the desperate battle forexistence that is fought daily and hourly by the lower creation.
"There don't seem to be a great many salmon," he remarked.
"It's a thin run," said Harry. "There'll probably be more of them in thenext one. Once upon a time, as I expect you've heard, these rivers wereso thick with fish that you could walk across their backs, though I'llallow I've never seen anything of that kind."
Frank was not astonished at the last admission. This brown-skinned,clear-eyed boy, who could sail a boat and hold the rifle straight, wasnot one to talk of the wonderful things he had seen and done. He leftthat to the whisky-faced sports of the saloons who were probably capableof butchering a crippled deer at fifty yards with the repeater.
"I suppose the salmon have plenty enemies," he suggested.
"Oh, yes," said Harry. "In the sea the seals and porpoises get theirshare of them. Then, as they head for the rivers, there are the fishtraps, and in Canada the seine-net boats along the shore. After thatwhen they're in fresh water they have to run the ga
untlet of theIndians, birds, and bears."
"Bears?" Frank interrupted.
"Sure," said Harry. "They're quite smart fishers. Even the little minksget some of the salmon stranded in the shallow pools. The Indians setlong baskets, narrow end downward, for them near the top of the falls.These, of course, are fresh from salt-water--you can see they'resilvery--but they lose that brightness as they go up the larger rivers,and on the Columbia and Fraser they push on hundreds of miles, uptremendous canons, up falls and rapids, toward the Rockies. Those thatfetch headwaters are scarred and battered, with the bright scales andmost of their fins and tails worn right off them. Once they're throughwith the spawning they die."
"Then they go straight to the place where they spawn?"
"Yes, the salmon's really a seafish. It's born in fresh water, but itgoes down to the ocean as soon as it's big enough, and it's generallybelieved that it stays there three or four years, though it's a factthat we know mighty little about the salmon yet. Then it comes back tothe same place and spawns and dies. You see, there's a constantsuccession coming up." He broke off with a laugh. "Now we'll try to getone. There are three or four big fellows yonder. All you have to do isto slash at them with the hook."
Frank perched himself upon a jutting shelf of rock, and presently two orthree swift shadows flitted by. He swung up the pole and made a suddensweep at them, only to see the hook splash two or three feet behind thelast one's tail. Incidentally, he came very near to going headforemostinto the pool. Then another fish swept toward him, and this time helanded the hook some inches in front of its nose, after which he madeseveral more attempts, succeeding only in splashing himself all over. Hewas beginning to discover that his hands and eyes needed a good deal oftraining. One, it seemed, must judge speed and distance and strikesimultaneously, but the trouble was that he needed a second or two tothink, and, naturally, while he thought the fish got away.
By and by he turned and watched Harry, who had not struck once yet. Hestood upon a ledge, alert, strung-up, and steady-eyed, but absolutelymotionless, with the long spear running up above his shoulder. At last,however, he drove his right arm down and the beautiful, straight shaftsank into the pool. It stopped suddenly for a second, quivering, andthen bent and twisted upward in the boy's clenched hands.
Frank ran toward him, wondering that the slender shaft did notimmediately break, when he observed that one barb had slipped off itssocket and that the fish, struck by it, was now held by the short lengthof sinew. A moment or two later Harry jerked it out upon the bank by aquick vertical movement and knocked it on the head. It lay still afterthis, a beautiful creature of some seven or eight pounds, with thesunlight gleaming on its silver scales. Frank glanced once more at thelong spear. It occurred to him that this was also perfect in its way andcould not have been better adapted to its purpose.
"It's curious that an Indian should be able to make a thing like that,"he remarked. "I don't think a white man could turn out anything ashandy, unless, of course, he had one to copy."
"The point is that it took the Siwash a mighty long while to make thesalmon spear," said Harry. "It's quite likely they spent two hundredyears over it. Their spears are all on the same pattern, so are theirtraps and canoes." Seeing a puzzled look cross Frank's face, he smiled."An Indian is no smarter than a white man--in fact, when you stop tothink of it, he's not half as smart, though most everything he makes isexcellent. It's this way. If we want a saw for a new purpose or adifferent kind of wood, we write to the Disston people or somebody ofthe kind and they set their boss designer to work. He considers, andthen because he knows all about the physical sciences he draws the thingon paper and sends it to the forges or grinding shops. In a general way,that saw does its work, though I guess if the designer had to use it fora year or two he'd make the next one better."
"Of course," agreed Frank.
"It's different with the Indians," Harry continued. "One fellow made afish spear ever so long ago and found that it wouldn't do. He made thenext one different and was satisfied with it, but his son made it alittle longer and thinner. Then his grandson altered the barb, and hisson added another one. After that each fellow made it a little handier,until nothing more could be done to it, and they stuck to the pattern."He turned and glanced at the spear. "This thing is the product of theskill of ever so many generations."
It was simple but convincing, for it explained the efficiency of theIndian's tools, and also why he had not progressed. He worked along thesame line, sticking to one simple implement until he had perfected it,and, though this was his greatest disadvantage, the man who killed thefish generally made the spear. He got so far and stopped, content, andincapable of going any farther. The white man, on the other hand,changed his methods continually with his changing needs and, whatcounted more than all, he very seldom made the tools he used, because hehad discovered that somebody who did nothing else could make thembetter. When the Americans of the Pacific Slope wanted salmon they didnot whittle spears, but sent east to the cordage factories, whose ownersbrought in fibers from all over the world and spun the netting withwhich to build gigantic fish traps.
"We could do with another fish," ventured Harry. "Let's see if you canget one."
Frank took up his pole again. It was a heavy and clumsy affair, butHarry had told him that he would probably break the Indian spear. Theywaited awhile until another swift shadow swept around with the eddybeneath their feet.
"Hold on!" cried Harry. "Wait till the stream heads him and then strikeas quick as you can."
The fish's speed was checked for a moment as it entered the furious rushbeneath the fall, and Frank, who could just see its dusky back amidstthe foam, swung his pole. There was a splash and then a curious shockwhich sent a thrill through him, and the haft jerked sharply in hishands.
"Heave him out!" cried Harry. "That thing won't break."
Frank tugged with all his might and the salmon flew up over hisshoulder. The next moment he had seized it and was almost reluctant tolet it go when his companion clubbed it on the head.
"Two's as many as we have any use for and we'll go along," said thelatter. "We haven't made much of a show at that draining lately."
Frank would have preferred to stay where he was, but he followed Harrytoward the bush, and soon after they struck a cleared trail to theranch, which was, however, not the way they had come. A little laterthey were somewhat astonished to see a group of figures among the trees,and hurrying forward they found Mr. Oliver and Mr. Barclay talking toJake, who apparently had been driving home two or three steers.
Mr. Oliver, looking unusually grave, nodded to the boys. "We have justmet Jake," he said. "He tells me Tillicum's back a little way up thetrail with a broken leg."
"I guess he's done," murmured Jake, adding significantly, "I wouldn'thave left him like that if I'd had a gun."
"Go on with the steers," said Mr. Oliver. "We'll turn back."
The boys accompanied him and Mr. Barclay, and leaving the trail by andby where the bush was thinner they stopped before a pitiable sight. Itwas Tillicum who stood awkwardly before them, his head lowered and oneleg that seemed distorted out of its usual shape hanging limp. Cakedmire was spattered about the poor animal, its coat was foul, and everyline of its body seemed expressive of pain and exhaustion. As it raisedits drooping head and looked at them pitifully, Frank felt a thrill ofhot anger against the outlaws who were responsible for its condition.Mr. Oliver stepped up to the horse and gently felt of its injured limb,after which he turned abruptly toward Mr. Barclay and Frank noticed thathis face was set.
"There's only one thing to be done," he said. "Have you a pistol?"
"Haven't _you_?" his companion asked with a slight trace of astonishmentin his tone.
"If I'd had one would I have wanted to borrow yours?" retorted Mr.Oliver.
"Well," said Mr. Barclay, "it's seldom I carry one, but in this case itseemed advisable." He put his hand into his pocket. "Here you are. It'sa big caliber."
Mr. Oliver took the
weapon and held it behind him, and turning backtoward the horse, gently stroked its head. Then there was a flash anddetonation, and the beast dropped like a stone. After a moment therancher turned around with a very curious look in his eyes, with thesmoking weapon clenched hard in his hand.
"I've had that faithful animal six years," he said in a harsh voice."We'll get away."
They walked on in silence for a while, and then Mr. Barclay spoke.
"The breaking of its leg was probably an accident," he suggested.
"Yes," said Mr. Oliver. "It's possible he broke it after they turned himloose, but that doesn't seem to affect the case." He paused and lookedaround at his companion. "You understand that I'm with you right throughthis thing."
Nothing more was said until they approached the ranch, when Mr. Oliverturned to the boys.
"I'll take the fish," he said. "You can go on with whatever you weredoing."
They moved away toward the drain, and when they reached it Harry stoodstill a moment or two.
"It's a long while since I've seen dad look half so mad," he said. "Whenhe sets his face that way it's sure to mean trouble. Anyway, when I sawTillicum I felt kind of boiling over--as well as sorry."
"Did you notice what Mr. Barclay said about the pistol?" Frank asked.
"Why, of course," said Harry thoughtfully. "Now I don't know whatthey've been after, but it's plain enough that there was some danger inthe thing. Mr. Barclay doesn't seem extra smart, but there's somethingin his look that suggests he wouldn't be easy scared, and he took apistol along." Then he laughed in a significant manner and jumped downinto the trench. "It's my idea those dope fellows are going to be sorrybefore dad gets through with them, and now we'll go on with thedraining."
He fell to with the grubhoe and for the next half hour worked furiously,after which Jake appeared and called them in to dinner.