Read Online Lost in the Barrens by Farley Mowat - Free Book Online

Eskimos, he turned to look at the surrounding plains. On all sides the Barrens were empty of motion and the only sound was the distant whistling of curlews. Nevertheless the fear of the Eskimos was still strong in his heart.
    The Stone House stood on the crest of a long ridge that stretched westward and upward into a range of hills. On the skyline at the end of this range stood the massive shape of Deer Mountain, under whose western slopes Denikazi was at that moment probably preparing to meet the herds of caribou.
    By the time Jamie wakened, the panic of the previous day had worn away. He had never really believed the tales of Eskimo ferocity, and this morning he felt foolish at having allowed himself to be so badly frightened. Also he was hungry, and his leg hurt with an angry and persistent pain.
    â€œWell,” he said, “whatever happens, we have to eat. What about it?”
    Awasin shook off his nagging fears and rummaged through the pile of gear. He found the fishline—a strong one, with a heavy hook—but there was nothing he could use for bait. He thought a moment, then picked up one of the cardboard ammunition boxes. Carefully he tore off a strip of the blue-and-yellow paper and ran the hook through it several times so that it formed an S-shaped bait, hiding the barb.
    â€œThe trout may have begun their autumn run by now,” he said, “and they will be as hungry as we are. Perhaps this outfit will fool them. I’ll go down to the river and see.”
    Carrying the rifle, Awasin started off, and Jamie set about making a fire. He knew Awasin would not approve but, as he said to himself, “If any Eskimo does see the smoke, he’ll probably run the other way faster than we ran yesterday! Anyway,” he concluded his thought, “I’m not eating raw fish if I can help it!”
    In the meantime Awasin had found a large whirlpool just below a rapid. Squatting on the bank, he tied a small stone to his line as a sinker. Then he whirled hook andsinker and about five feet of line about his head like a lasso. He let go suddenly and the weighted hook shot halfway across the river drawing the line after it. Slowly Awasin pulled the hook back toward the shore.
    Nothing happened. Anxiously Awasin repeated his throw. This time he had only drawn in a few feet when the line snapped taut. Quickly he took a turn around his hand; the tightly stretched line jerked so hard it cut into his skin. Bracing himself, he slowly, carefully, dragged the line in toward shore.
    Something swirled near the surface of the river and Awasin caught a glimpse of an immense silver shape, so huge it was unbelievable. His eyes glistened with excitement, for Awasin knew he had hooked one of the monster trout who spend their lives in the deepest lakes and only venture up the rivers when the run is on.
    The great fish lunged violently as it came into the shallows, and nearly pulled Awasin off his feet. He did not dare drag it any farther for fear the line would break. Hurriedly he looped the line about a boulder and without an instant’s pause leaped into the swirling water.
    He splashed into the river only inches from the giant fish, and it lunged viciously so that spray shot high into the air. The line hummed with the tension, then snapped suddenly. Awasin was ready for it. Both his hands were clenched in the red gills of the mighty trout!
    The plunging, struggling fish knocked Awasin over on his back—but still the boy hung on. Shouting with excitement, he struggled to haul it into shallower water.Then one of his hands lost its grip. Desperately he flung himself forward and the trout’s broad tail smashed against his face.
    With the quickness that can mean the difference between starvation or survival, Awasin acted. He sank his teeth into the trout’s tail, and hung on like a terrier.
    A few minutes later, soaked, and shaking with excitement, he had the fish in the shallows. He groped around with his