Here the hills on
the east shore were seen to recede from the lake, stretching away a
little east of north, while between, the country was flat and
boggy. A short distance further on we landed to put up sails. A
ptarmigan and her little family were running about among the
bushes, and the men gave chase, coming back shortly afterwards with
the mother bird and her little ones.
Towards evening we put out our trolls, and I caught one big brook
trout, one little namaycush, and a big one a twenty-pounder. This
time he did not get away, though I strongly suspect this may have
been because Job landed him. We camped late in a swampy place, and
while the men put up camp I cleaned my three fish. The big one was
so big that I could hardly manage him. I had just opened him up
and taken out the inside and was struggling to cut off his head
when somehow my hunting-knife touched his spinal cord in a way that
made his tail fly up almost into my face. I sprang up with a
shriek but suddenly remembered he really must be dead after all,
and returned to my task. Presently Job emerged from the bushes to
see what was the trouble. He suggested that I had better let him
clean the fish, but I declined.
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