o the top of the water and
so, by little and little, to the side of the canoe. But his own
strength was giving out, faster now than the salmon's. His wound had
parted; and as he clenched his teeth he felt the line fraying.
The fish would have been lost had not Muskingon, almost without
shaking the canoe, dropped overboard, dived under and clenched both
hands upon his struggles.

It was Menehwehna who dragged the salmon across the gunwale; for John
had fainted. And when he recovered, Menehwehna was coolly gutting
the monster--if a fish of eighteen pounds can be called a monster; as
surely he can when taken in such fashion.

After this, John being out of action, Sergeant Barboux must take a
turn with the rod. He did not (he protested) count on landing a
fish; but the hooking of one had been so ridiculously prompt and easy
that it was hard to see how he could fail.

But he did. He flogged the water till nightfall, confidently at
first though clumsily, at length with the air of a Xerxes casting
chains into the flood; but never a bite rewarded him. He gave over
the rod in a huff, but began again at dawn, to lay it down after
an hour and swear viciously. As he retired Muskingon took the pole;
he had watched John's one and only cast and began to imitate it
patiently, while the sergeant jeered and the canoe drifted.
Towards noon he felt a bite, struck, and missed; but half an hour
later he struck again and Menehwehna shouted and pointed as John's
fly was sucked under in a noble swirl of water. Muskingon dragged
back his rod and stretched out a hand for the line; but Barboux had
already run forward and clutched it, at the same moment roughly
thrusting him down on his seat; and then in a moment the mischief was
done. The line parted, and the sergeant floundered back with a lurch
that sent the canoe down to her gunwale.

McQuarters laughed aloud and grimly. Menehwehna's dark eyes shone.
Even John, though the lurch obliged him to fling out both hands to
balance the boat, and the sudden movement sent a dart of pain through
his wound, could not hold back a smile. Barboux was furious.

"Eh? So you are pleased to laugh at me, master Englishman!
Wait then, and we'll see who laughs last. And you, dog of an Indian,
at what are you rubbing your hands?"

"Your exploit, O illustrious warrior," answered Menehwehna with
gravity, "set me in mind of Manabozho; and when one thinks upon
Manabozho it is permitted and even custo