CHAPTER IV.
THE SECRETS OF TRAPPING.
"Bully!" cried Steve, looking almost as happy as he did on thatnever-to-be-forgotten day when they found their first lovely pearl in amussel taken from the Big Sunflower River.
"A b-b-bear!" exclaimed Toby. "L-l-let me s-s-see."
All of them were soon eagerly examining the marks so plainly described inthe light snow. Bruin had evidently shuffled along here, heading for somefavorite place in the neighboring marsh, where he knew food was still tobe found.
"We'd better leave the old chap alone for a bit," announced Jim. "When Ican make sure by his coming back to his den the same way that he's got aregular trail, we'll lay for him."
"I'd like to get in a shot with my gun," declared Steve.
"H-h-ho! Much g-g-good your N-n-number Seven shot'd d-d-do against hist-t-tough old hide!" jeered Toby.
"Get out! You don't think I'm such a ninny as that, I hope," answeredSteve, indignantly. "Hey, take a look at that shell, and this one, too,will you? Know why that black cross is on them? Course you don't. Well,I'll tell you."
"H-h-hurry up then and t-t-tell me."
"They're buckshot shells," declared Steve. "Each one's got just twelvebuckshot inside, all as big as pistol bullets. And at short range they'recalculated to bring down a deer like fun. I'd be willing to take mychances against a black bear, given a good opening to hit him back of hisforeleg. Now you know a heap more'n you did before, Toby Jucklin."
"S-s-sure," answered the other, nodding his head good-naturedly.
"But remember," said Jim at this juncture, "a good bearskin is worth allthe way from five to twenty dollars to me. But after you've made a sieveout of it with twelve or twenty-four buckshot from that scatter gun, why,I hardly think I could give it away."
"So Steve, please restrain your bear-killing feeling just now," said Max."Whether we get him in a trap or shoot him on the run the bear steakswill taste just as good; won't they, Uncle Jim?"
"I reckon you're right," replied the trapper, without any greatanimation; for doubtless he had found bear meat pretty tough eating, andgiven his choice would any day have much preferred the porterhouse steakwhich Steve had so often at home that he turned up his nose at it.
When they arrived at the marsh where the countless muskrats had theirhomes, a new species of interest was aroused.
Jim showed them how he had to employ entirely new tactics when dealingwith the muskrats than in connection with the mink. The former werebanded together in colonies, and the trapper had to be constantly on thealert lest in capturing one prize he frighten the whole family away.
"But I learned my business many years ago," the old trapper declared,with considerable pride, "when beaver lived in the North Woods. Therenever were more wary little animals than those same beaver, and the manwho could circumvent 'em had a right to call himself smart."
After setting three traps he led the way to a place where he had left onebaited on the occasion of his previous visit to the marsh.
"You see, here's where I set it on the bank," he remarked, "and the chainran down there to a stake in deep water."
"But it ain't here now, Uncle Jim," said Steve.
"Because a curious and hungry musquash, anxious to reach the bait I stuckon a splinter of wood just above the trap, set it off."
"And then sprang back into the water, because that was his natural way ofdoing when alarmed, and soon drowned there. Was that the way it worked,Uncle Jim?" asked Max.
The old trapper looked fondly at him and answered:
"Exactly as you say, son. Men who trap these cunning small fur-bearinganimals never get tired of studying their habits; and the one who entersmost fully into the life and instincts of mink, 'coon, marten, otter,fisher, or even the humble muskrat, is the fellow who succeeds best inhis business."
"B-b-but all the m-m-muskrats I ever saw could swim and s-s-stay underw-w-water's long as they p-p-pleased," Toby broke out with.
"That's a mistake," said Trapper Jim. "None of these animals can liveunder water all the time like a fish. They have to come up to breathejust so often. Beaver have houses made of mud and sticks. The entrancesto these are always down below: but you find the tops of all beaverhouses above the surface."
"But," said Steve, "I've seen muskrats dive just as Toby says, and waitedwith a club to have 'em come to the top of the water again; but lots oftimes I'd have to chuck it up as no good. How did that happen, UncleJim?"
"That is easily explained," answered the trapper. "Just as alligators do,so mink, otter, and muskrats have holes that run up into the bank of astream, their nest being always above ordinary high water. When youmissed seeing your rat it was because he happened to be near enough todive down, enter his tunnel, and make his way up to his nest. You see,there are lots of queer things to be learned, if you only keep your eyesand ears open when in these woods."
"But show us if you really did get one in your trap," urged Bandy-legs,who knew much less about all these things than any one of the chums, yetfelt considerable eagerness to learn.
So with a stick that had a fork at the end Jim felt around in the waterat a point he supposed he would find something.
And, sure enough, he presently caught the chain and speedily pulled outthe trap. It was not empty. A plump-looking muskrat was caught by bothforelegs.
"You got him, all right, sure," commented Steve.
Trapper Jim was taking the victim out, and carefully resetting the trapin the same place it had been before; after which he renewed the bait.
"Like as not I'll have another to-morrow, and for days to come," heremarked; "unless they get suspicious on account of the scent we leave bytouching things. I try to kill that all I can. But when animals areunusually timid, it's often necessary to come in a boat, and do it allwithout setting a foot on shore, because, you know, water leaves neithertrail nor scent."
"Yes, the sharpest-nosed hound in the world is knocked out, I've read,when the game takes to the water."
It was Owen who made this remark, and the trapper nodded his head inapproval as he added:
"I see you are a great reader, my boy. That's a mighty fine thing.There's only one that's better--proving the truth of things by actualexperience. And while you're up here in the grand old North Woods with meI hope you'll pick up a lot of useful information that you never wouldfind in any school books. Now we're ready to visit the second trap thatwas set a little farther along."
To the satisfaction of the trapper this furnished a victim equal in sizeto the first one.
"I didn't know muskrats counted for much, Uncle Jim," remarked Steve, whosaw the sparkle in the old man's eyes as he handled the second prize.
"Oh well, the skins didn't pay for the trouble years ago," he said inreply, "but of late years good furs are getting so scarce that they areusing heaps of muskrat pelts, generally dyed and sold under another name.It is a good serviceable fur, and if taken up North answers the purposevery well."
"Why do you say 'up North'?" asked Owen.
"Max there can tell you, I'm sure," laughed the trapper.
"Oh, well," remarked the one mentioned, "I do happen to know that thefarther north you go the better the fur. And, of course, that means ahigher price in the market, since all pelts are graded according to sizeand quality."
"That means, I suppose," said Owen, "that a muskrat skin taken away up inNorthern Michigan or Canada is more valuable than the same sized peltthat was captured down, say, in Florida."
"Often worth twice or three times as much," remarked the trapper. "Standsto reason, too, since the little critters don't have much need of thickhides where the weather is generally warm."
"I can see through that all right," Steve admitted, "but ain't they queerlookin' little rascals, though! Some plump, too!"
"Fat as butter this season," observed Jim. "And I'm just longing to seehow they taste. Last year they didn't just seem to suit my particularbrand of appetite."
"What's that?" almost shouted Ste
ve, "say, Uncle Jim, you're just tryingto give me taffy now, sure you are."
"That's where you're mistaken Steve," said the trapper, smiling at thehorrified expression on the boy's face.
"But--you don't mean to say you _eat_ muskrats?" demanded Steve.
"Do I? Well, you wait and see how I'll tackle these this very evening.And if we're lucky enough to find a third one in my other set trap, why,you boys can have a look in, too."
"Me eat rats?" cried Steve, scornfully. "Mebbe I might if I had to do itor starve to death; but not when I've got other stuff to line my stomachwith, I'm no Chinaman, Uncle Jim."
"Well, you'll change your tune before long," remarked the other, "andit's a mistake to class these clean little animals with common rats. TheIndian name for him is musquash, and thousands of people appreciate thefact that his meat is as sweet as that of a squirrel."
"And I've been told," said Max, "much more tender."
"That's a fact," declared Jim, "I've got so I never try to fry a squirrelnowadays unless he's been parboiled first. They're the toughest littlecritters that run around on four legs."
When they arrived at the third trap it was found to contain another"victim of misplaced confidence," as Old Jim called it.
"Plenty to go around now, boys," remarked the trapper.
"You'll have to excuse me," said Steve, shuddering.
And yet before three days went by Steve had been induced to taste themusquash, as Trapper Jim prepared them, and found the dish so good thatafterwards his tin pannikin was shoved forward for a second helping asoften as any of the others.
On the way home, after all the traps they had brought had been set,Bandy-legs noticed a tree that stood up black and grim, as though a firehad destroyed it at some time.
"Yes," said Jim, when his attention was directed that way, "quite a fewyears ago we had a big fire up this way that did heaps of damage. AndI've noticed that the conditions this fall are just about the same asthat year. Why, we've hardly had any rain at all in the last two months."
"The woods must be pretty dry then, I should think," Max remarked.
"Dry as tinder," replied the other. "This little snow will all disappear,and unless we get a heavy fall soon, it wouldn't surprise me if somecareless campers or deer hunters let their camp fire get into the brushwhen the wind is blowing great guns. Then there'll be the mischief topay. But I hope it won't be any one of you boys."
Each and every one of them solemnly declared that he was firmly resolvedto be unusually careful.
Finally they reached the cabin.
In the afternoon Old Jim skinned the three musquash, and showed the boyshow he fastened the hides on stretching boards, which would cause themto retain their shape while they dried.
"We never put skins in the sun or near a fire to dry," he observed,seeing that most of the boys were anxious to learn all they could. "Thebest way is to stand 'em in the shade where the breeze can play on 'em.But, of course, you mustn't let the pelts get wet while they're drying."
Sure enough, Jim cut up the musquash, and gave evidences of satisfactionat finding them so plump.
As the afternoon began to wane Bandy-legs surprised his chums by actuallyvolunteering to go out and gather wood for the fire.
This was really such an unusual occurrence that Max surveyed the othercuriously as he passed out.
He wondered if Bandy-legs, generally quite lazy, had seen the error ofhis ways and meant to reform.
It appeared that Max was not the only one who thought this action odd,for Owen spoke of it.
"What d'ye suppose struck that boy?" he remarked.
"Never knew him to volunteer to do a thing before," declared Max.
"I should say not," Steve broke in. "Generally speaking, we have to use astuffed club on Bandy-legs to get him to do anything but eat."
Toby chuckled.
"Gr-g-great s-s-stunt," he ejaculated, "g-g-got him anxious to t-t-trystewed m-m-m-m--" But that name was really too much for Toby, who had tobe satisfied by pointing at the kettle in which Trapper Jim had placedthe dismembered musquash.
At this the others laughed.
They were lounging around in the cabin at the time. A small blaze burnedin the big fireplace at the bottom of the wide-throated chimney.
"What I want to know," remarked Owen, who had been examining one of theskins stretched on the thin board, "is why they fix these differentways. I've read that some skins are cured with the fur out and otherswith it in; some split and others dried whole."
"Glad you mentioned that," said Jim, looking pleased. "Skins are of allkinds. Some we dry cased, without cutting. I'm going to show you thewhole business by degrees, if we're lucky enough--"
He stopped short in what he was saying, and seemed to cock his head onone side, as though listening.
"Say, I guess there must be some kind of bird or animal in your oldchimney, Uncle Jim," remarked Steve.
"I thought I heard it, too," Owen declared.
All listened.
"There it goes again," said Steve; "and something dropped down rightthen. I was thinking of that story you told us where a bear came downthrough the big chimney of a cabin. Wow! Listen to that, would you?"
As Steve cried out in this way, the rattling in the chimney suddenly grewinto an alarming noise. Then a large object fell with a crash into thefire.