Eben Holden: A Tale of the North Country

  Chapter 10

  Uncle Eb was a born lover of fun. But he had a solemn way of fishingthat was no credit to a cheerful man. It was the same when he playedthe bass viol, but that was also a kind of fishing at which he tried hisluck in a roaring torrent of sound. Both forms of dissipation gave hima serious look and manner, that came near severity. They brought onhis face only the light of hope and anticipation or the shadow ofdisappointment.

  We had finished our stent early the day of which I am writing. When wehad dug our worms and were on our way to the brook with pole and line asquint of elation had hold of Uncle Eb's face. Long wrinkles deepened ashe looked into the sky for a sign of the weather, and then relaxed abit as he turned his eyes upon the smooth sward. It was no time for idletalk. We tiptoed over the leafy carpet of the woods. Soon as I spoke helifted his hand with a warning 'Sh--h!' The murmur of the stream was inour ears. Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Ebbeckoned to me.

  I came to him on tiptoe.

  'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log?' he whispered, pointingwith his finger.

  I nodded.

  'Cre-e-ep up jest as ca-a-areful as ye can,' he went on whispering.'Drop in a leetle above an' let 'er float down.'

  Then he went on, below me, lifting his feet in slow and stealthystrides.

  He halted by a bit of driftwood and cautiously threw in, his armextended, his figure alert. The squint on his face took a firmer grip.Suddenly his pole gave a leap, the water splashed, his line sang inthe air and a fish went up like a rocket. As we were looking into thetreetops it thumped the shore beside him, quivered a moment and floppeddown the bank He scrambled after it and went to his knees in the brookcoming up empty-handed. The water was slopping out of his boot legs.

  'Whew!' said he, panting with excitement, as I came over to him.'Reg'lar ol' he one,' he added, looking down at his boots. 'Got awayfrom me--consarn him! Hed a leetle too much power in the arm.'

  He emptied his boots, baited up and went back to his fishing. As Ilooked up at him he stood leaning over the stream jiggling his hook. Ina moment I saw a tug at the line. The end of his pole went under waterlike a flash. It bent double as Uncle Eb gave it a lift. The fish beganto dive and rush. The line cut the water in a broad semicircle and thenwent far and near with long, quick slashes. The pole nodded and writhedlike a thing of life. Then Uncle Eb had a look on him that is one ofthe treasures of my memory. In a moment the fish went away with such aviolent rush, to save him, he had to throw his pole into the water.

  'Heavens an' airth!' he shouted, 'the ol' settler!'

  The pole turned quickly and went lengthwise into the rapids. He ran downthe bank and I after him. The pole was speeding through the swift water.We scrambled over logs and through bushes, but the pole went faster thanwe. Presently it stopped and swung around. Uncle Eb went splashing intothe brook. Almost within reach of the pole he dashed his foot upon astone, falling headlong in the current. I was close upon his heels andgave him a hand. He rose hatless, dripping from head to foot and pressedon. He lifted his pole. The line clung to a snag and then gave way;the tackle was missing. He looked at it silently, tilting his head. Wewalked slowly to the shore. Neither spoke for a moment.

  'Must have been a big fish,' I remarked.

  'Powerful!' said he, chewing vigorously on his quid of tobacco as heshook his head and looked down at his wet clothing. 'In a desp'rit fix,ain't I?'

  'Too bad!' I exclaimed.

  'Seldom ever hed sech a disapp'intment,' he said. 'Ruther counted onketchin' thet fish--he was s' well hooked.'

  He looked longingly at the water a moment 'If I don't go hum,' said he,'an' keep my mouth shet I'll say sumthin' I'll be sorry fer.'

  He was never quite the same after that. He told often of his strugglewith this unseen, mysterious fish and I imagined he was a bit more givento reflection. He had had hold of the 'ol' settler of Deep Hole'--afish of great influence and renown there in Faraway. Most of the localfishermen had felt him tug at the line one time or another. No man hadever seen him for the water was black in Deep Hole. No fish had everexerted a greater influence on the thought, the imagination, the mannersor the moral character of his contemporaries. Tip Taylor always tookoff his hat and sighed when he spoke of the 'ol' settler'. Ransom Walkersaid he had once seen his top fin and thought it longer than a razor.Ransom took to idleness and chewing tobacco immediately after hisencounter with the big fish, and both vices stuck to him as long as helived. Everyone had his theory of the 'ol' settler'. Most agreed he wasa very heavy trout. Tip Taylor used to say that in his opinion ''twasnuthin' more'n a plain, overgrown, common sucker,' but Tip came from theSucker Brook country where suckers lived in colder water and were moreentitled to respect.

  Mose Tupper had never had his hook in the 'ol' settler' and wouldbelieve none of the many stories of adventure at Deep Hole that hadthrilled the township.

  'Thet fish hes made s' many liars 'round here ye dimno who t' b'lieve,'he had said at the corners one day, after Uncle Eb had told his story ofthe big fish. 'Somebody 't knows how t' fish hed oughter go 'n ketch himfer the good o' the town--thet's what I think.'

  Now Mr Tupper was an excellent man but his incredulity was always toobluntly put. It had even led to some ill feeling.

  He came in at our place one evening with a big hook and line from 'downeast'--the kind of tackle used in salt water.

  'What ye goin' t' dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired.

  'Ketch thet fish ye talk s' much about--goin' t' put him out o' theway.'

  ''Tain't fair,' said Uncle Eb, 'its reedic'lous. Like leading a pup witha log chain.'

  'Don't care,' said Mose, 'I'm goin' t' go fishin t'morrer. If therereely is any sech fish--which I don't believe there is--I'm goin't' rassle with him an' mebbe tek him out o' the river. Thet fish issp'llin' the moral character o' this town. He oughter be rode on arail--thet fish hed.'

  How he would punish a trout in that manner Mr Tupper failed to explain,but his metaphor was always a worse fit than his trousers and that wasbad enough.

  It was just before haying and, there being little to do, we had alsoplanned to try our luck in the morning. When, at sunrise, we werewalking down the cow-path to the woods I saw Uncle Eb had a coil of bedcord on his shoulder.

  'What's that for?' I asked.

  'Wall,' said he, 'goin' t' hev fun anyway. If we can't ketch one thingwe'll try another.'

  We had great luck that morning and when our basket was near full we cameto Deep Hole and made ready for a swim in the water above it. Uncle Ebhad looped an end of the bed cord and tied a few pebbles on it with bitsof string.

  'Now,' said he presently, 'I want t' sink this loop t' the bottom an'pass the end o' the cord under the driftwood so 't we can fetch it'crost under water.'

  There was a big stump, just opposite, with roots running down the bankinto the stream. I shoved the line under the drift with a pole and thenhauled it across where Uncle Eb drew it up the bank under the stumproots.

  'In 'bout half an hour I cal'late Mose Tupper'll be 'long,' hewhispered. 'Wisht ye'd put on yer clo's an' lay here back o' the stumpan' hold on t' the cord. When ye feel a bite give a yank er two an' haulin like Sam Hill--fifteen feet er more quicker'n scat. Snatch his poleright away from him. Then lay still.'

  Uncle Eb left me, shortly, going up stream. It was near an hour before Iheard them coming. Uncle Eb was talking in a low tone as they came downthe other bank.

  'Drop right in there,' he was saying, 'an' let her drag down, throughthe deep water, deliberate like. Git clus t' the bottom.'

  Peering through a screen of bushes I could see an eager look on theunlovely face of Moses. He stood leaning toward the water and jigglinghis hook along the bottom. Suddenly I saw Mose jerk and felt the cordmove. I gave it a double twitch and began to pull. He held hard for ajiffy and then stumbled and let go yelling like mad. The pole hit thewater with a splash and went out of sight like a diving frog. I broughtit well under the foam and driftwood. Deep Hole resum
ed its calm,unruffled aspect. Mose went running toward Uncle Eb.

  ''S a whale!' he shouted. 'Ripped the pole away quicker'n lightnin'.'

  'Where is it?' Uncle Eb asked.

  'Tuk it away f'm me,' said Moses. 'Grabbed it jes' like thet,' he addedwith a violent jerk of his hand.

  'What d' he dew with it?' Uncle Eb enquired.

  Mose looked thoughtfully at the water and scratched his head, hisfeatures all a tremble.

  'Dunno,' said he. 'Swallered it mebbe.'

  'Mean t' say ye lost hook, line, sinker 'n pole?'

  'Hook, line, sinker 'n pole,' he answered mournfully. 'Come nigh haulin'me in tew.'

  ''Tain't possible,' said Uncle Eb.

  Mose expectorated, his hands upon his hips, looking down at the water.

  'Wouldn't eggzac'ly say 'twas possible,' he drawled, 'but 'twas a fact.'

  'Yer mistaken,' said Uncle Eb.

  'No I hain't,' was the answer, 'I tell ye I see it.'

  'Then if ye see it the nex' thing ye orter see 's a doctor. There'ssumthin' wrong with you sumwheres.'

  'Only one thing the matter o' me,' said Mose with a little twinge ofremorse. 'I'm jest a natural born perfec' dum fool. Never c'u'd b'lievethere was any sech fish.'

  'Nobody ever said there was any sech fish,' said Uncle Eb. 'He's donemore t' you 'n he ever done t' me. Never served me no sech trick asthet. If I was you I'd never ask nobody t' b'lieve it 'S a leetle tewmuch.'

  Mose went slowly and picked up his hat. Then he returned to the bank andlooked regretfully at the water.

  'Never see the beat o' thet,' he went on. 'Never see sech power 'n afish. Knocks the spots off any fish I ever hearn of.'

  'Ye riled him with that big tackle o' yourn,' said Uncle Eb. 'Hewouldn't stan' it.'

  'Feel jest as if I'd hed holt uv a wil' cat,' said Mose. 'Tuk the hullthing--pole an' all--quicker 'n lightnin'. Nice a bit o' hickory as aman ever see. Gol' durned if I ever heem o' the like o' that, ever.'

  He sat down a moment on the bank.

  'Got t' rest a minute,' he remarked. 'Feel kind o' wopsy after thetsquabble.'

  They soon went away. And when Mose told the story of 'the swalleredpole' he got the same sort of reputation he had given to others. Only itwas real and large and lasting.

  'Wha' d' ye think uv it?' he asked, when he had finished.

  'Wall,' said Ransom Walker, 'wouldn't want t' say right out plain t' yerface.'

  ''Twouldn't he p'lite,' said Uncle Eb soberly.

  'Sound a leetle ha'sh,' Tip Taylor added.

  'Thet fish has jerked the fear o' God out o' ye--thet's the way it lookst' me,' said Carlyle Barber.

  'Yer up 'n the air, Mose,' said another. 'Need a sinker on ye.' Theybullied him--they talked him down, demurring mildly, but firmly.

  'Tell ye what I'll do,' said Mose sheepishly, 'I'll b'lieve you fellersif you'll b'lieve me.'

  'What, swop even? Not much!' said one, with emphasis. ''Twouldn't befair. Ye've ast us t' b'lieve a genuwine out 'n out impossibility.'

  Mose lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. There was alook of embarrassment in his face.

  'Might a ben dreamin',' said he slowly. 'I swear it's gittin' so here 'nthis town a feller can't hardly b'lieve himself.'

  'Fur 's my experience goes,' said Ransom Walker, 'he'd be a fool 'f hedid.'

  ''Minds me o' the time I went fishin' with Ab Thomas,' said Uncle Eb.'He ketched an ol' socker the fast thing. I went off by myself 'n got agood sized fish, but 'twant s' big 's hisn. So I tuk 'n opened his mouthn poured in a lot o' fine shot. When I come back Ab he looked at my fish'n begun t' brag. When we weighed 'em mine was a leetle heavier.

  '"What!" says he. "'Tain't possible thet leetle cuss uv a trout 'sheavier 'n mine."

  ''Tis sarrin,' I said.

  '"Dummed deceivin' business," said he as he hefted 'em both. "Gittin' soye can't hardly b'lieve the stillyards."'