Meanwhile the canoe ran down-stream, Fred Carington in the bow, and Polycarp, with his changeless, coppery visage, astern.
As the Indian had by no means hurried himself, the morning was past and luncheon long over when Rose saw the canoe returning. Lyndsay had not come back. At all events, she would have the afternoon fishing.
When Mr. Lyndsay reached home, Rose had gone, and he had no chance to take a look at the new bowman: he hoped he was competent. The man in the bow especially has to judge with decision as to the watery way before him, to avoid shallows, to look out for rocks, and instantly to obey every order from the stern.
When Polycarp’s birch, for the Indians always use the bark canoe, ran close to the beach, the bowman stepped out, as the way is, into the water and drew the bark to the shore. Polycarp, silent as a monk of La Trappe, went up the steps. The boys were absent, Miss Anne was off with big-voiced Tom, and Mr. Lyndsay had not returned. Carington began to be curious. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed, for here was a young woman coming gaily down the steps. She wore a boy’s cap and carried a basket. Behind her came Polycarp with her rods.
It is the business of the bowman to use his eyes and not his tongue. The former were now discreetly busy. I scarcely ever knew a talkative bowman. Talk is the privilege of the man at the stern, who rarely hesitates to advise as to the handling of a fish, or to converse with easy freedom.
“I scarcely bargained for this,” said Fred to himself. “It’s high comedy, rather. I am in for it. Here goes!” And he drew the side of the birch close to the shore, readjusted a stone or two of those placed for landing and then steadied the canoe. Miss Lyndsay put a hand on his shoulder, stepped lightly in, and sat down. As usual in this watery travel the low seat for the fisherman is set to face in the direction in which the boat moves, so as to give the view ahead. When about to fish the canoe is run ashore,—beached, they say,—and the seat is turned so as to look to the stern.
“We are to fish the upper—the rock pool, Polycarp; above the Island Camp—a mile or so, I believe.”
“And you are to be careful not to go beyond a certain dead pine, or to get onto the water of the Island Camp. We don’t know those people, and I wish to be careful.”
