CHAPTER VIII.
"A polecat!" gasped Steve. "Thunder! What a nice mess we're in."
"That's just what," echoed Bandy-legs. "It's half an hour now since Uncle Jim sighted the striped beast through the window. He was a-settin' on the table then, and having a spread all by himself. Then, of course, after that he gets sleepy, and I just bet you right now he's curled up as nice as you please in the very bunk I expected to occupy to-night. Just my luck!"
"But we ought to get rid of him," said Max, hardly knowing whether to laugh or feel provoked, for he was very tired and hungry and did not enjoy the prospect of sleeping out-of-doors without even a solitary blanket, while that saucy little beast retained possession of the whole cabin.
"We've been waiting and watching and hoping this half hour and more," said Owen, with a rather forlorn smile; "but still he doesn't come out of the window where he must have gone in."
"H-h-he likes it in t-t-there. Most c-c-comfortable place he ever s-s-struck," Toby remarked.
"Where were the dogs when he went in?" Max asked.
"Off with us," replied Owen.
"We got back an hour before noon," Trapper Jim remarked. "After lunch we hung around for a while and I fixed all the pelts we brought in."
"Any mink?" asked Steve, eagerly.
"Yes, one good pelt," answered Jim. "Then, about the middle of the afternoon I said we might take a little range around on our own hook and set the bear trap in the bargain, for the old chap had been along the trail to the marsh again."
"Bully!" exclaimed Steve, who was hard to keep quiet.
"We tied the dogs some little distance away from where we meant to set our bear trap, because they'd want to follow the trail and spoil everything," Uncle Jim went on.
"And we helped him set her, too," remarked Bandy-legs, proudly.
"Yes, if we get a bear, it'll be partly yours, boys," the trapper went on to say. "After that part of the business had been carried out we started on our hunt. But to tell you the truth, boys, we never saw a thing worth shooting."
Max suspected that Toby and Bandy-legs made so much noise floundering through the dry leaves that they gave every squirrel and rabbit plenty of warning, so that they could make themselves scarce long before the expedition came along.
But if this was the truth Trapper Jim would not say so. What were a few rabbits or squirrels in comparison with the company of these jolly, interesting boys? The game he had with him all the time, but not so Owen, Toby, and Bandy-legs.
"Then we came home again," said Owen, taking up the story; "and it was by the greatest luck ever that Uncle Jim just happened to look in at the open window and discovered the skunk. Just think what might have happened if we'd burst in on the little beast and scared it!"
"And me with only one suit, which is bad enough as it is, having holes burned in it, without having to bury the same," Bandy-legs remarked.
"Oh," said Steve, "you wouldn't have felt it much, for p'r'aps we'd have buried you with your clothes. But, however, are we going to coax him out of there, boys?"
"I move Steve be appointed a committee of one to go and ask our friend the skunk to vacate the ranch," said Owen.
"A good idea," added Max. "Steve, he's got a most convincing way with animals. They take to him on sight."
"Yes, that five-pronged buck did, you're right, Max," admitted the candidate for fresh honors. "But I draw the line on skunks."
"They ain't got a line; Uncle Jim says it's a stripe," vociferated Bandy-legs.
"But the day's nearly done and we've got to do something about it," remarked Trapper Jim. "Can't one of you think up a way? He acts like he meant to stay in there as long as the feed holds out."
"Perhaps he's heard the dogs," suggested Owen. "We've got them tied up close by, and every little while one gives a yelp."
"They seem to just know there's something up," declared Bandy-legs.
"S-s-sure t-t-thing," added Toby, seriously.
"Max, haven't you got a plan?" asked the owner of the cabin, turning toward the other eagerly, as though he guessed that if they found help at all it would be in this quarter.
"I was just thinking of something," replied the boy, smiling.
"Yes, go on," Trapper Jim continued.
"We couldn't coax him out, and if we tried to frighten the little rascal it'd be all day with our staying in that cabin again while we boys are up here. But perhaps he might be made to feel so unpleasant in there that he'd be glad to move off."
"Good for you, Max; I can see you've got an idea," cried out Jim, approvingly.
"I don't think skunks like smoke any more than any other wild animals!" Max ventured.
"Smoke!" ejaculated Steve. "Hallelujah! Max has caught on to a bully good idea. Let's smoke the little beggar out. Everyone get busy now."
"Hold on," said Trapper Jim, catching Steve by the sleeve again; "go slow."
"Yes, go mighty slow," complained Bandy-legs. "You know well enough, Steve Dowdy, that I can't smoke at all. There's no use of my trying, because it makes me awful sick every time."
"Listen to that, would you!" laughed Steve. "The simple believes we're all going to get pipes and blow the smoke through some chinks in the cabin walls. Cheer up, old fellow, it ain't quite as bad as that."
"When we've got some stuff that will burn," continued Max, "I'll climb up on the roof, set fire to it, and drop it down the chimney. Then after it gets a good start I'll follow it with some weeds Uncle Jim will gather, and which he knows must send out a dense smoke after I've clapped a board over the top of the chimney flue."
"Bravo!" cried Owen, so loud that the chained dogs near by started barking.
"A very original scheme," said Trapper Jim, patting Max on the back. "And the sooner we start in to try how it works, the better."
"I've got only one objection," Steve spoke up.
"Well, let's hear it," demanded Owen, frowning.
"I think Max ought to let Bandy-legs run that part of the business," Steve went on to say, "he knows more about chimneys than all the rest of the push put together. He's examined 'em from top to bottom inside."
"Oh, rats!" mocked the one upon whose unwilling head all these high honors were being heaped.
"I object," spoke up Toby, bound to have his say. "B-b-bandy-legs never c-c-could resist the t-t-temp-tation to d-d-drop in himself. And think what'd h-h-happen if the s-s-skunk saw him comin' out of the f-f-fireplace a-whoopin'."
"Let's get the stuff to burn, lads," said Trapper Jim, who certainly enjoyed hearing the boys chaff each other in this way. "And everybody keep away from that side of the house where the window stands open."
They were not long in finding what they wanted.
"Make this up in a little bundle, boys, so I can drop it down quick after I've set a match to it," and Max gathered the dry stuff together as he spoke, waiting for one of the rest to tie it with a cord.
"And this other I'd drop down loose like," said Trapper Jim, as he held up the bunch of half-dead weeds he had collected. "These give out the blackest smoke you ever saw, and if you shut off the draft after they get going good and hard, nothing living could stay long in that cabin."
"That's the ticket!" remarked Steve, enthusiastically.
He certainly did enjoy action more than any one of the chums. Steve was happy only when there was "something doing," even though the source of excitement lay in a miserable little highly scented skunk that had taken a liking to Jim's cozy cabin and seemed ready to remain there indefinitely.
So they adjourned to the rear of the little squatty structure. Everybody took great care to keep away from the one open window. Some of the boys had had little or no experience with the species of friendly animal now occupying their quarters. Still, it was strange how great a respect for his feelings they entertained. Why, no fellow seemed to want to even be seen looking rudely in.
Max readily climbed upon the roof.
He purposely made considerable noise while so doing, and for good reasons. It was just as well that the inmate of Jim's cabin knew they were around and objected to his remaining there.
And then, again, Max had a little fear lest the skunk make a sudden appearance, popping out of the chimney before he could really get busy. That event, should it take place, would likely enough upset all his well-planned calculations.
Max under such conditions would wisely seek safety in flight. Indeed, he had already picked out the very place where he could jump from the roof of the cabin and make sure of landing in a soft spot.
As soon as he reached the roof he hurried over to the chimney, intending to start operations by dropping something down.
"I ought to notify the little rascal that the flue is marked dangerous," Max was saying to himself, "so that if he's started up he can just back down again."
Fortunately nothing happened, and Max was not compelled to take that sudden flying leap.
The chimney, as is the case with all log cabins, was built on the outside. It was composed of slabs of wood, secured with a mortar made principally of certain mud.
In process of time this became thoroughly baked, and the heat assisted in this transformation. It was now as hard as flint rock.
That the flue was a generous one we already know. Had that not been the case Bandy-legs could never have fallen down through it to land in the fireplace below.
Max had counted on this fact.
Having notified the intruder to keep away from the fireplace under penalty of getting hurt, and feeling that the way was now open to undertake the carrying out of his little scheme, Max returned to the point where he had reached the roof.
The others had seen to it that the balance of his dry stuff was placed where he could lay hands on the same. So Max by degrees dumped all this down after the first lot.
"Now to set it going," he remarked.
"You seem to be having a bully old time up there all by your lonely," said Steve, half enviously.
"Oh, I'm a cheerful worker," Max replied.
He had arranged some of the best of the stuff so that after applying a match he could send it down upon the top of all that had gone before.
"How is it?" asked Trapper Jim, who was standing on something or other, so that his head came above the low, almost flat roof.
"It's burning all right; I can see it taking hold," came the reply from Max, who had been cautiously peering down the gaping chimney.
"Then take this stuff and follow suit," remarked the other, handing up the armful of weeds he had himself gathered.
"Hurry up about it, too, Max," sang out Steve. "We want the show to begin. It's cold down here, believe me."
"Oh, it'll be warm enough," declared the owner of the cabin, "if that onary little beast turns this way after he crawls out of the window. And I'll advise you all to give him plenty of room."
"We will, thank you," the others sang out in a chorus. "Oh, you skunk, we like you—at a distance! Go ahead, Max, fix him!"
Having dropped the weeds Jim had selected down the flue, Max only waited until the black smoke began to pour out.
Then he quickly clapped a board Jim happened to own over the top.
"That ends my part of the work here," he called out, crawling over to the side of the cabin where he could have an unobstructed view.
Heads appeared around the corners of the structure, but no soul was venturesome enough to dare show himself in plain view.
And so they waited to see what the result of the bright plan would be. Already smoke was oozing out of the opening on the side, and it did not seem possible that anything but a salamander could stand the stifling fumes much longer.
CHAPTER IX.
"He's coming!" called out Max from above.
"Take care, everybody!" cried Trapper Jim.
In one way it was laughable to see the tremendous excitement caused by the small striped animal with the bushy tail. The skunk emerged from the window in something of haste. Reaching the ground it seemed to cast one look backward, as though either feeling provoked at being forced to vacate such nice quarters, or else wondering what all that rank odor of smoldering weeds meant.
Then the skunk sauntered jauntily off toward the woods, looking as saucy as you please. The dogs bayed from their place of confinement; the boys stepped out to wave their hands after their departing guest; but not one was bold enough to wish to lay a hand on him.
"Good-by and good luck!" called Trapper Jim.
"Next time don't stay so long," laughed Owen.
"He's little, but oh, my, how mighty!" remarked Steve.
"Look out, he's stopped!" shrieked Bandy-legs, and with that everybody made a headlong plunge back of the cabin again.
Indeed, Bandy-legs himself hid in a thicket and looked rather white on reappearing again after Max sang out that the coast was clear.
"They say one swallow don't make a spring," remarked Owen, when all danger was over, "but it strikes me one polecat does."
Of course, since the object of his labor had now been successfully accomplished, Max took the board away from the top of the chimney.
This allowed the smoke to escape in a normal way.
But when they stepped inside the cabin the boys were loud in their expressions of disgust.
"That weed was sure a corker for smell as well as smoke, Uncle Jim!" declared Owen.
"Well, I guess you're right there," chuckled the trapper. "I admit it does run a pretty fair race with Mr. Skunk himself, and that's why they give it his name. But it did the business all right, eh, boys?"
"That's what," assented Steve, who had been holding his breath until he could get used to the tainted atmosphere.
"And we ought to be thankful it's no worse," declared Max, joining them.
"Yes," Trapper Jim went on to say, "I remember a case where in a logging camp some greenhorn was foolish enough to kill one of the animals, and the result was they had to build new quarters. Nobody could stand it in the old place. There's nothing more lasting."
"It ain't overly nice right now," asserted Steve. "I'm wondering which I like least, the perfume our visitor left or the one your old skunkweed made."
"Oh, we'll soon change all that, boys," declared Trapper Jim. "Build up the fire and we'll get busy. Just wait and see how it's done."
It was, after all, a very simple thing.
Trapper Jim's idea seemed to be built on the principle that "like is cured by like." He believed in overpowering one odor with another.
And when that cabin began to fill up with the appetizing scent of frying onions, flanked by that of some ground coffee, which Jim allowed to scorch close to the flames, even "hard-to-please Steve" admitted that everything seemed peaceful and lovely again.
"But after this," he remarked, "I hope when we all go away from home we'll be careful to close the blinds as well as the door."
"Yes," added Owen, "and hang out a sign 'This house is taken; no skunks need apply.' One dose was enough for me."
"But, s-s-say, wasn't it a c-c-cunning little b-b-beast," observed Toby, "and d-d-didn't he look real sassy when he m-m-marched off with his t-t-tail up over his s-s-shoulder?"
Steve looked at him severely.
"You'd better be mighty careful how you admire one of them striped critters at close quarters, Toby, if ever you meet one in the woods," he remarked.
"S-s-sure I will be careful," replied the other, with a wide grin.
"Because," Steve went on to say, "if you ever do get in collision with one, we'll have to bury every stitch you've got on, crop your hair close, and make you sleep and live in some old hollow tree. Ain't that so, Uncle Jim!"
"I guess that's about the size of it," came the reply.
"Oh, you d-d-don't need to w-w-worry about me," Toby hastened to say. "I know enough to k-k-keep out of the r-r-rain. I d-d-don't like his l-l-loud ways any b-b-better'n the rest of you."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Steve continued, severely. "I'm a little suspicious about you, Toby, because you always did like cats. And I'm going to keep an eye out to-morrow for a handy hollow tree so's to be all ready."
"Oh, s-s-shucks! I h-h-hope you'll n-n-need it your own self," was what Toby sent back at him.
By the time supper was ready the boys were as hungry as a pack of wolves in January. And everything tasted so good, too.
Trapper Jim showed them how to cook some of the venison in a most appetizing way. It was "some tough," as even the proud Steve admitted; but, then, what boy with a gnawing appetite ever bothered about such a small thing?
The idea that they had actually shot the deer themselves would cover a multitude of sins in the eyes of the young Nimrods.
And while they were satisfied that the disagreeable odor left behind by their unwelcome guest had been dissipated, Trapper Jim knew better. They would detect faint traces of it about the place for days to come, and find no difficulty about believing the trapper's story about the abandonment of a lumber camp.
"Are all s-s-skunks s-s-striped like that one was?" asked Toby, during the progress of the meal.
"There he goes again," burst out Steve; "I tell you, fellows, we're going to have a peck of trouble with this here inquirin' mind of Toby's."
"G-g-go chase yourself!" blurted out the stuttering boy, indignantly. "I'm only tryin' to g-g-get information at c-c-close quarters."
"And you'll get it, all right," chuckled Steve. "You'll be satisfied, I reckon; but think of us, what we'll have to stand. Just you let that close quarters racket die out, Toby Jucklin."
"Some of the animals are jet black," remarked the trapper, "and they fetch a better price than the striped skins."
"Glory be!" ejaculated Bandy-legs.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Steve.
"You don't mean to tell me they use the skins for furs?" Bandy-legs continued.
"Sure they do," replied Steve; "ain't that so, Uncle Jim?"
"They make splendid furs," was what the trapper remarked. "The striped ones are dyed, of course. And they have a way of removing any faint odor that happens to remain."
"Faint odor!" echoed Steve, sniffing the atmosphere. "I wonder if there ever is such a thing in connection with these awful beasts."
"That shows you haven't read up about them, Steve," remarked Owen. "Why, there are a whole lot of skunk farms all over the Northern States."
"You're fooling me, Owen," declared Steve, reproachfully.
"How about it, Uncle Jim; am I kidding him?" demanded Owen, turning toward the old trapper, who was enjoying all this talk immensely.
"Heaps of skunk farms, yes, siree," he replied, promptly. "They soon get to know the man who feeds them and give him no trouble. He's a peaceable little critter, and only when he gets excited does he go to extremes."
"Well, I want to give 'em all a wide berth," Steve asserted. "And if I meet one in the woods I'm willing to let him have the whole path. I'd take off my hat and bow in the bargain, if I thought he wanted me to. Because I've got a whole lot of respect for the skunk family. They're just immense!"
So they talked and jollied each other as they went on eating one of the "bulliest suppers" they had ever sat down to, as more than one of the boys loudly declared.
The dogs had been brought in and were given their share from the remains of the venison that had been cooked, the balance of the hind quarter having been hung out in the frosty air.
All of the boys had taken a decided fancy to the dogs, and in return the intelligent animals seemed to reciprocate this friendly feeling. Accustomed to sharing the cabin with the trapper at night as his only companions during the long winter months, they did not take kindly to the new rule that made them sleep out in a kennel while the boys were present. And when allowed inside they hugged the fire in a way that told how much they appreciated its cheery warmth.
They were lying there later on in the night and Trapper Jim had just mentioned that it must be time for him to take the dogs out, when old Ajax lifted his head and growled. Immediately little yellow Don did the same.
"What ails 'em?" asked Steve, as the dogs got up and stood there, the hair along their necks and backs rising up.
"Oh, I reckon they scent some animal prowling around outside," remarked the trapper, making for the door.
"Good gracious! I hope now it ain't that same old skunk come back because he's changed his mind!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, glancing hastily around, as if to see where he could hide.
The trapper, however, seemed to know that there was no danger along those lines. He took down the bar, and, throwing open the door, stepped out.
As he did so there was a sudden vicious snarl that thrilled the boys, and then the dogs bounded out with a chorus of wild barks.
CHAPTER X.
The excitement was tremendous for the time being, with the barking of the two dogs and the cries of the boys.
All of them had heard that savage snarl as Trapper Jim stepped out.
"Was it a bobcat?" demanded Steve, who had been wise enough to snatch up his gun before following the trapper out of the door.
"Just what it was," replied the other.
"Three to one he was at our meat!" exclaimed Max.
"You can see it swinging yet," declared Owen.
"That's right, son," the trapper admitted; he was hanging to it when I broke out so sudden-like. When he snarled like that I ducked some, because it ain't the nicest thing a-going to have a bobcat on your shoulders. But I saw him make a spring and land among the branches of the tree. Then he was gone, and the dogs they run out, givin' tongue."
"The moon's just climbin' in sight," said Steve, eagerly; "d'ye think I'd stand a chance to get a crack at him if I hurried along to where the dogs are barking like mad?"
He acted as though seriously contemplating such a bold move. The trapper laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You'd best stay just where you be, son," he said, quietly, but in a way Steve understood. "Only a foolish or reckless hunter'd try to get at lose quarters with a bobcat of nights. They scratch like fun, and there's always danger of blood poisoning from such wounds."
So Steve was forced to restrain his ardor. But he relinquished his plan with rather bad grace.
"I'll get you yet, old feller," he was heard to mutter, as they heard the wildcat emit a mocking, tantalizing cry at some little distance away. "You see if I don't, now!"
And when Steve once set his mind upon accomplishing anything, he generally got there, for he was very persistent.
Trapper Jim, thinking that the dogs had had all the excitement necessary, and wishing to put a stop to their racket, blew a whistle he carried.
So well trained were the dogs that upon hearing the signal to return to their master they immediately stopped barking and a few minutes later Ajax showed up, quickly followed by Don.
"You chased him off, didn't you?" said the trapper, stooping down to pat his pets by turns.
The dogs each gave a single bark, as though to say "yes," and their wagging tails told how much they appreciated these few words of praise from their master.
"Will the cat come back again, do you think?" Owen asked.
"I reckon not," laughed Trapper Jim; "since he's found out we keep dogs around the camp. A bobcat hates dogs about as much as human beings do skunks. If you ever run across him again, Steve, it'll be somewhere else; p'r'aps up where you left the rest of your fine buck."
"Well, he didn't get our breakfast, anyway," remarked Bandy-legs, quite bold again, since all the danger seemed past.
"Will you leave it out there after this, Uncle Jim?" asked Max.
"On the whole," replied the other, "I guess not. It'll keep all right indoors. And if that hungry cat should come back, the dogs'll smell him and keep up a tarnal barkin' that'll knock our sleep galley-west."
So he proceeded to lower what was left of the venison, which was thereupon carried inside the house and hung up from the rafters, along with numerous other things—packages of dried herbs, stalks of tobacco which Jim had had sent up from Kentucky, where a friend grew the weed, and some dried venison that he called "pemmican" or jerked meat.
As they were all tired and in need of a good night's rest, the boys were just as well pleased with this assurance that their sleep should not be broken.
"I guess that pesky skunk didn't have time to crawl in my bunk," announced Bandy-legs, in a satisfied tone, after sniffing the blankets carefully.
"Oh, you're always seeing ghosts where there ain't none!" declared Steve.
The night passed away without any serious disturbance. Once or twice there was an outbreak of barking on the part of the dogs, still haunted by memories of the bold bobcat that had dared come so close to the cabin. Trapper Jim had to go out once to quiet Ajax, whose deep-toned baying seemed to annoy him.
Morning arrived, and the boys, as usual, were up at the first peep of day. There was so much to be done they could not waste time in trying to sleep after the darkness had gone.
On this particular day quite a number of things awaited their attention. First of all they meant to seek the spot where the big bear trap had been set in the hopes that they would find Bruin caught.
This was only a beginning.
Next in order, Steve and Max had decided to start out, taking Toby along, and fetch in the balance of the venison, Toby had expressed a desire to see the arena where Steve and the five-pronged buck held their little circus. He also wished to try how fast he could hurry around that tree, so as to be prepared in case the time ever came when necessity would compel him to adopt the same tactics.
Finally, Trapper Jim, and possibly the ether two boys, would have to make the rounds of the traps to take out any catch, and set them again.
On the whole it promised to be a rather energetic day.
Breakfast having been disposed of the boys all got ready to move on. This time the dogs were taken, because they might prove valuable in case a bear was caught. But Trapper Jim made sure to hold them in leash. He valued the dogs too much to think of taking any more chances of having them injured than he could help. There was no need of risking their lives with a trapped and furious bear when a single bullet would do the business.
"Close that window, boys," said the trapper when they were ready to go.
"You bet we will," declared Steve.
"No more unwelcome guests—whew!" ventured Bandy-legs, as he started to accomplish the duty mentioned by the trapper.
They made quite a large party as they sallied forth—five boys, the trapper, and the two dogs. Each of the boys had a gun of some sort, for they had provided themselves with weapons against this trip to the North Woods and two weeks or so with Trapper Jim.
"I pity the poor bear," said Max, as he looked around at the assortment of weapons and the eager faces back of them.
"He'll sure die of fright when he sees this bunch all in their war paint," Steve observed. "'Specially when he gets sight of Bandy-legs there with that silly old pump gun he bought and is afraid to use."
"Who's afraid?" sang out the injured party. "I ain't used it just because there ain't been no chance yet, see? If I'd been along with Max when that buck showed up, guess I'd 'a' give him as good as you did."
"Listen, would you, fellers!" exclaimed Steve, and then he laughed. "Say, wouldn't it have been a circus if that deer got to chasing Bandy-legs around a tree! Run? Well, he'd have to stir those stumps of his faster than he ever did before in all his life, or he'd be hangin' on the ends of them horns. I guess you're lucky not to have been there, my boy!"
"We're getting near the place where we set that trap, I reckon," remarked Bandy-legs, partly to change the course of the conversation, for it sometimes made him feel uncomfortable when Steve got to joking upon the subject of his short lower limbs.
"Correct, son," replied the trapper. "I'm glad to see you noticed the lay of things when we was here yesterday."
"It's right over yonder," continued Bandy-legs, anxious now to let Steve see that he was not as stupid as the other made out.
"What makes you so sure of that, Bandy-legs?" asked Max.
"Why, you see, I remember that tree with the big bunch of scarlet leaves. I was lookin' at that while Uncle Jim set the trap. Ain't another clump like that anywhere around, I reckon," was the smart reply Bandy-legs made.
The old trapper nodded his head.
"He's right," he said. "I took them same five leaves for my mark, too. The trap was set just beyond. But, of course, that ain't sayin' we'll find it there now."
"Not find the trap, do you say, Uncle Jim?" exclaimed Bandy-legs; "why, whatever could happen to it?"
"If so be the bear came along and put his foot in, so them powerful jaws they closed like a vise, I reckon he'd walk off with it," the trapper replied.
"That's so, you didn't fasten the chain to a stake or a tree," said Owen.
"But I remember that you had a big clump of wood fixed to the end of the chain; what was that for?" Bandy-legs asked.
"I k-k-know; that's the c-c-clog," Toby interrupted them to remark.
"Just what it was," Trapper Jim admitted.
"A clog, was it?" Bandy-legs continued; "but what's the use of it?"
"I'll explain," the other remarked; "when we set a bear trap we generally fasten the chain to a heavy piece of wood. When Bruin shuffles off he drags this after him. And in the course of time it weakens the old chap, for he's losing blood all the time."
"That's kind of cruel; but go on, Uncle Jim," Owen remarked.
"I guess you're about right, son," said the other, "and there's lots that's cruel about this trappin' business. But the women must have their furs, and ever since Adam's time I reckon the animals has had to supply covering for human beings. Eve thought it all over many a time, and I try to be as humane in my work as anybody could."
"But there's another use for the clog, isn't there?" asked Max.
"To be sure there is," Trapper Jim replied. "You see, it drags on the ground and leaves such a plain trail that any tenderfoot could foller it."
"Then you really have no use for the dogs," spoke up Owen. "I supposed they were going to lead us along the trail."
"Oh, they'll do that, all right," laughed the trapper; "but to tell the truth I fetched 'em along for exercise and to keep them from getting uneasy more'n anything else."
He stopped and appeared to be listening.
"Can you tell if he's there?" asked the wondering Bandy-legs.
"I can tell that he ain't there," replied the trapper. "It's all as still as anything. That means either our bear didn't come along his trail after we set the trap, or else he's come and carried it away with him."
"She's gone!" ejaculated Bandy-legs, as he craned his neck the better to see the spot where, as he remembered, the big trap had been set, artfully concealed, squarely in the track Bruin used in going to and fro from the marsh to his chosen den, where he expected to hibernate during the coming winter.
"You're correct, son," Trapper Jim declared. "The bear has been here and walked off with my prize trap. Here's where the clog tore up the ground, you see. I reckon now any one of you boys could follow them marks."
"With my lamps blindfolded," Steve ventured.
"Then come on with me. We ought to have bear steak for supper to-night," and holding on to the eager and straining Ajax, while Owen looked after Don, the trapper led the pursuit.
Everywhere could be seen the plain marks where the weighty clog had plowed into the ground when the trapped bear pulled it along after him.
As the trapper had said, the merest tyro could easily have followed such a broad, blood-marked trail.
Sooner or later they must expect to come upon the bear unless he had been able, through good luck, to reach his den ere now.
The excitement on the part of the two dogs grew more intense.
"We must be crawling upon him, I should think," Max remarked.
"Just what we're doing," the trapper replied, "and, unless I miss my guess, we'll find him caught fast in this thicket just ahead. Slow up, boys. There's no need of hurrying any more, for I think he's waiting up for us right here."
With their hearts beating like trip hammers the boys now approached the thicket into which the plain trail of the heavy clog seemed to plunge.
CHAPTER XI
"Listen!" said Trapper Jim.
All of them became silent. Even the dogs, as if recognizing some vein of authority in that one word spoken by their master, ceased barking, though still straining hard in the leash, as though fairly wild to break away.
There was a crackling of the bushes, and this grew louder.
"Oh, I see him!" cried Bandy-legs.
"Get ready to shoot, everybody, if I give this word; but don't pull trigger unless you hear me yell you to," called out the trapper.
Then there was a savage roar that seemed to make the very air quiver. Out of the thicket scrambled a big black bear, looking furious indeed.
Thinking they were about to be attacked, and in a panic at the very idea, some of the boys leveled their guns. They might have pulled trigger, too, in their excitement, only for the quick warning the old wood's ranger gave.
"Hold your fire, everybody. It's all off. No danger as long as that clog remains fast!" was what he shouted.
Max could readily grasp the situation. He saw that the angry beast could only come just so far, because something was holding one of his hind legs.
"The clog's got fast among the rocks in there, and he's held as tight as can be; that's what's the matter," Steve sang out.
Of course the only thing left to do now was for some one to put a bullet where it would be apt to do the most good.
Who would be appointed to carry out this part of the programme?
Steve hoped Trapper Jim would look favorably upon him when seeking a candidate. He had never shot a bear in all his life, and while there would be little glory attached to the passing of one that was held fast in a trap, still it would be something to think of later on.
But Trapper Jim was a wise man. He supposed that every one of the boys was fairly quivering with eagerness to be the one selected.
As he looked around at the five anxious faces the trapper scratched his head, as though unable to decide.
"It can't be did that way," he muttered. "They must draw lots for it, and the shortest straw wins out. Hear that, boys?"
"Yes, and it's all to the mustard," said Steve, keeping on the alert, and ready to pour in the contents of both barrels should the trapped bear give any evidence of freeing the clog.
"Then here goes."
With that the trapper fastened Ajax to a tree, and then, bending down, picked up a number of twigs. These he seemed to pinch off so that they were all of a size but one, which was shorter.
"Remember, boys," he said, as he mixed these in his hand, so that one could not be told from the others, "it ain't the longest pole that knocks the persimmons this time. The feller who gets the short straw has the chance. Take a pick, Steve."
Steve, of course, could not hold back. And while the dogs were jumping to the length of their leashes and barking madly, with the bear roaring an accompaniment as he tugged desperately at his chain, he drew a splinter of wood.
"Missed! Gee, what tough luck!" Steve exclaimed, in a chagrined voice, as he stared at his prize.
"Try your luck, next!" said Trapper Jim.
Max made a choice. He met with the same result that had given Steve such an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
Then Owen stepped up eagerly.
"I've got it picked out," he remarked, "and it's all over but the shouting." Then he chose, and was jeered by Steve.
"That leaves it a toss-up between Toby Jucklin and Bandy-legs!" he exclaimed, envy plainly marked in his voice.
The two who had yet to draw looked a little frightened. Truth to tell, neither of them experienced anything in the shape of an overwhelming desire to "slay the jabberwock," as Owen put it.
"Draw, Toby, and be quick about it," Steve flung out; "don't you see the old chap's getting all out of patience. Pull out a straw, now, and be done with it. Whatever you draw settles it."
So Toby, with trembling fingers, did as he was told. And immediately he glanced down at the one he had taken, he grinned.
For it was one of the longer straws, similar to those taken by the others. Bandy-legs grew pale.
"Do I have to draw?" he asked, almost piteously.
"Sure you do!" cried Steve. "There's only one left, and you draw that. It's the fatal short one, too. You ring up the prize, Bandy-legs!"
"But—I didn't have any choice!" remonstrated the one selected by fate to be the executioner of the trapped bear.
"Huh, I like that!" laughed Steve. "Why, you had a chance every time one of us stepped up and made a pick. Go on, now, and get ready to do for him, unless you've got cold feet and want to hand it over to somebody else."
But somehow Steve's jeering remarks had stirred Bandy-legs' pride. He looked hard at the other. Then he shut his jaws tight together.
"Thanks! I guess I'll do the job myself!" he remarked.
"With that pop gun of yours?" asked the incredulous Steve.
"No, I'm going to ask Max to lend me his rifle," replied Bandy-legs.
"Much you know about a repeating rifle!" continued his tormentor.
"Well, I did fire it a few times at a target, didn't I, Max?" protested the chosen one.
"You sure did, and really hit the target once," Max hastened to answer, as he exchanged guns with Bandy-legs.
"Huh, that ain't sayin' much, when like as not the target was a barn!"
Ignoring this last thrust from Steve as something beneath his notice, Bandy-legs saw to it that the hammer of the repeating rifle was drawn back.
"Where'll I stand, Uncle Jim?" he demanded, trying to appear quite cool; but the experienced old trapper knew very well how he was secretly quivering all over.
"Here, drop down behind this rock and rest your rifle on it," he said. "Now, wait till I say the word, and then press the trigger. Aim just back of the foreleg, because you're more apt to reach his heart there."
"What if I don't kill him?" asked Bandy-legs, with a big sigh.
"Clap another shell in and give it to him. Reckon you know how to work the trombone action, don't you?" the trapper went on to say.
"Sure I do," answered the Nimrod, lowering his cheek to the stock of the gun.
"Remember, now, and don't shut your eyes, Bandy-legs!" advised Steve.
"Let up on that, Steve," remarked Max, who was greatly interested in seeing the novice get a square deal.
Half a minute of waiting followed. The dogs continued to jump and bark, and the bear, made savage by his pain, tugged at his chain and growled.
"Shoot!" said Trapper Jim, suddenly.
Almost with the word came the clear report of the rifle, showing that at least Steve's jibes had had the effect of putting Bandy-legs on his mettle.
With a fearful roar the bear fell over and began struggling. The dogs seemed almost frantic now in their desire to break loose.
"Quick, work the pump action and get ready!" called out Trapper Jim.
Bandy-legs managed to do as he was told, though he was shaking so by this time that he almost let the gun drop.
"Hold on, no use wasting another shot. I reckon he's done for," was what he heard Trapper Jim say.
"And you've been and gone and killed a real live bear, Bandy-legs!" said Max.
The boy heaved a sigh as he gave back the rifle.
"But he was held fast in a trap, Max," he said, moodily; "guess that ain't so much to crow over."
"But ain't he a whopper!" exclaimed Steve, who was at the bear's side almost as soon as the animal had ceased to struggle.
"If we only had a c-c-camera here now we'd take him with his f-f-foot planted on the old b-b-bear and holdin' his g-g-gun!" exclaimed Toby.
Here was plenty of work for all hands.
The bear must first of all be skinned, because Jim said he had a splendid hide that would be worth a good deal to him when properly dried.
Then they wanted some of the meat, in fact all that was worth while, for Jim would dry that which they did not consume.
"Plenty of fat, too," he observed, as he worked. "I like that, because I'm short just now on bear's grease, and a supply would come in handy."
"What do you use it for, Uncle Jim?" asked Owen.
"Dozens of things. I rub it on boots, I keep my guns and ax from rustin' by smearin' it on. Why, long ago in the woods I've known where families made candles out of bear's fat by using a wick in the middle."
By degrees he managed to cut the bear up. The meat was wrapped in packages, so that it might all be transported to the cabin.
"What about the trap; will you set it again?" asked Steve.
"Not here," was the reply. "No other bear is likely to come along the trail this fellow made. One of you boys had best tote it back home. I may need it again this winter if the season stays open and the bears come out to look around, like they do mild winters."
It was well on toward noon when they arrived once more at the cabin, each one being pretty well loaded down.
They concluded to have a bite to eat before attempting anything further. But the cooking of the bear meat would have to be deferred until later in the day, as it would take too much time.
Feeling refreshed after their meal, the boys announced themselves ready to undertake any further business.
Max, Steve, and Toby were to take that four-mile tramp after the venison that had been left behind on their former trip.
"Seems like we're getting our share of happenings up here," remarked Steve, as he and his two chums tramped steadily on.
"Well, yes, it does look that way, Steve."
"Things come along right smart these days and nights," continued the other. "And already it's paid us for the long trip, 'cording to my calculations."
"It certainly has," admitted Max.
"With more'n a week more to come," added Steve. "And there's only one thing I feel bad about, too."
"I think I could give a guess what that is," said Max; "the bobcat."
"Hit it plumb center that time," laughed the other, as he shifted his gun to the other shoulder, for on the four-mile tramp it was beginning to feel rather heavy.
"Well, I wouldn't bother my head any over that fellow getting away scot-free," Max continued. "He didn't do any damage, and, as Uncle Jim says, you might have been sorry if you went out in the dark woods looking for trouble. When anybody does that he generally finds it, all right."
"But I hope I just happen on the old pirate again while we're up in this neck of the woods," observed the persistent Steve. "I'd just like to look along the barrels of my gun at the varmint, as Jim calls him."
"Yes, Steve, and he said he had an idea this was the same old cat that gave him a peck of trouble last winter, stealing some of the animals that were in his traps, but always avoiding getting caught himself."
"Why, Uncle Jim even tried to poison the thief, but nary a bite would the cat take of the doctored meat," Steve went on. "I hope this is the same tough old customer and that I sight him when I've got my gun along, that's all."
"We've got there, Steve. I can see the very tree where we hung up the balance of the little buck we knocked over."
Steve could not but note how Max persistently gave him an equal share in the credit of killing the deer. It warmed his heart toward such a generous chum. But, then, that was always the way with Max Hastings.
"Let's go a little slow, Steve," he continued; "we can't see the deer, because of the leaves that still hang on to the oak."
Silently then they advanced.
And just as they arrived at a spot where they could see the hanging carcass, again did they hear that ferocious snarl as on the preceding night. Steve instantly threw his gun up to his shoulder, and at the same instant he heard Max at his elbow saying:
"Steady, Steve, steady! Look out, he's going to jump."