Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border LifeThompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
General
Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border Life
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction
The hunter now, with the assistance of his new pupil in the craft,
proceeded to dressing the moose, the process of which, bleeding,
disemboweling, and partially skinning, was soon completed; when, cutting
some stout green skids with the hatchet he ever carried in his belt, and
inserting the ends under the bulky carcass, the two contrived to raise it,
by means of old logs rolled up for the purpose, several feet from the
ground, so as to insure a free circulation of air beneath it. This being
done, the hunter kindled two log fires, one on each side, to keep off, he
said, the wolves and other carnivorous animals. They then, after cutting
out the tongue and lip, which are esteemed the tidbits of this animal, took
up their line of march for the lake, which, with the long, rapid lope of
the woodsman, measured off, as usual, in Indian file, and with little or no
interrupting conversation, they reached in a short time, and without
further adventure.
"Now," said the hunter, as he reached the spot where his canoe was tied,
and turned round towards his lagging companion,--"now, sir, what say you to
taking a five-pound trout?"
"Perfectly willing," replied Claud, smiling; "and I would even take up with
a smaller one."
"Well, I won't,--that is, not much smaller; and I think I'll have one of at
least the size I named."
"What makes you so confident?"
"Because, it being a hot, shiny morning, they took to their coverts early,
and must be sharp-set, by this time. Besides that, it is just about the
best time for them that could be got up: a deep cloud, as you see, is
coming over the sun, and this wind is moving the water to the bottom. All
sizes will now be coming out, and the big ones, like big folks, will make
all the little ones stand back till their betters are served."
Each now taking to his canoe, they pushed out some twenty or thirty rods
into the lake, cast anchor, and threw out their lines. Claud, who baited
with grubs, soon had drawn in two, weighing as many pounds a piece, and
began to feel disposed to banter the hunter, who had baited with a flap of
moose-skin, which he had brought along with him, and which, to Claud,
seemed little likely to attract the fishes to his hook. But he soon found
himself mistaken; for, turning to give utterance to what was passing in his
mind, he beheld the other dallying with a trout, which he had hooked, and
now held flapping on the surface of the water, evidently much larger than
either of his own.
"That is a fine one!" cried Claud. "Why don't you pull him in?"
"Not big enough," said the hunter, in reply to the question; while he
turned to the fish with an impatient "Pshaw! what work the cretur makes of
it! Hop off, hop off, you fool! There," he added, as the trout at length
broke away and disappeared, "there, that is right. Now be off with yourself
till you grow bigger, and give me a chance at the fine fellow whose tail I
saw swashing up round here just now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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