'Trolling for black bass and maskelongé,' remarked Robert. 'There! he has a bite.'
Arthur's line, some seventy or eighty feet long, was attached to his left arm as he paddled, which gave a most tempting tremulousness to the bait--a mock-mouse of squirrel fur; and a great pike-fish, lying deep in the clear water, beheld it and was captivated. Slowly he moved towards the charmer, which vibrated three or four feet beneath the surface; he saw not the treacherous line, the hook beneath the fur; his heavily under-jawed mouth (whence he obtained the name of masque-longue, misspelled continually in a variety of ways by his Canadian captors), his tremendous teeth, closed voraciously on the temptation. Arthur's arm received a sudden violent jerk from the whole force of a lively twenty-five pound maskelongé; a struggle began, to be ended successfully for the human party by the aid of the gaff-hook.
This was the noblest prey of the pond. Pickerel of six or seven pounds were common; and a profusion of black bass-spotted trout in all the creeks; sheep-heads and suckers _ad libitum_, the last-named being the worst fish of Canada. George thought the success far too uniform for sport; Arthur hardly cared to call the killing of God's creatures 'sport' during some time back.
'Davidson, here's a contribution for your bee,' cried Arthur, holding up the prize by its formidable snout. 'For your good wife, with my compliments.'
Mrs. Davidson was in the thick of preparations for a logging-bee, to be held two days subsequently, and whither all the Cedar Creek people were invited. Every settler's wife's housekeeping is brought to a severe test on such occasions, and the huge maskelongé was a most acceptable addition.
The four gentlemen and Mr. Callaghan went with their team of oxen to help their good neighbour on the appointed morning.
It might have been four hours afterwards that Linda was working in her garden, hoeing a strawberry bed, and singing to herself some low song, when, attracted by a slight movement at the fence, she raised her eyes. Mr. Nimrod Bunting was leaning against the rails.
'I guess you may go on, Miss,' said he, showing all his yellow teeth. 'I've been admirin' yar voice this quarter of an hour past. I've never happened to hear you sing afore; and I assure you, Miss, I'm saying the truth, that the pleasure is highly gratifyin'.'