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THE SETTING OUT OF THE TRAPS

"Royal Son," said the Red Widow next morning, "what is the Burrow of the Men-Kind like?"

"Ask Carcajou when he comes, Mother," replied Black Fox; and he related the incident of the night before.

"Art sure, Son, that the Kit-Man's Mother is not with him?"

"No, Dame, she is not."

"Then he will get into trouble-that is certain. I have looked after you all-a big family, too, nine of you-and know what it means. Pisew, with his cannibal taste for Fox-cubs-and mark this, Son, even Carcajou has a weakness the same way, my Mother taught me to understand. And Rof, who seems such a big, gruff, kind-hearted fellow, would crack one of your backs with his great jaws quick enough in the Hunger-year, were no one looking. Mooswa is honest, but the others bear him no love, surely. And François is to set out the Traps to-day, and he has discovered our home here in this cut-bank, you say. Well, Son, thou art the King, because of thy Wisdom; but together we must advise against this Slayer, who has the cunning of Carcajou and the Man-knowledge of Wiesahkechack."

"What shall we do, Dame?"

"Now, thy red Brother, Speed, must take the message to the strong runners of our Comrades, Mooswa and the others, as has been arranged, to meet; and when François has passed with the Traps, go you five after this Man, and gain knowledge of where they are placed, and do all things necessary for safety in the Boundaries. The Watcher over Animals has sent soft snow last night, the first of this Cold-time, so your task will be easy. Just the length of a brisk run, higher up the Pelican, is a cut-bank with a hole as good as this. Before you were born, with your beautiful silver coat, I lived there.

"Now, François, even as he told the Man-Cub, will trap here, and who knows but he may put his Fire-medicine with its poison breath in the door of our Burrow, and seek to drive us out to be killed."

"That is true, Most Wise Mother; the sight of the twisting red-poison is more dreadful than anything; for it smothers and eats up, and is swift as the wind, and spreads like the flood in the river, and fears neither Man nor Beast, and obeys not even the Spirit God of the Animals when it is angered."

"Well, Son, while you follow the trail of this evil Trapper, I, with all your Brothers, will go to the other Burrow."

"Be sure the Cubs step all in one track, Mother-your track, so this Breed Man, with his sharp eyes, shall not suspect."

"Do you hear, Cubs?" asked the Widow. "Remember what your Brother has said. Also each day one of us will make a fresh trail here, so that the Man may think we still live in this house."

So while Speed glided swiftly through the Boundaries uttering his whimper call to Mooswa, Muskwa, Rof, and Carcajou, François and Rod shouldered each a bag of Traps and started to lay out the Marten Road, as was called a big circle of Traps extending perhaps thirty miles, for the Winter's hunt.

The Boy was filled with eager, joyous anticipation. During his school days in town he had thought and dreamed of the adventurous free life of a Fur Trapper in the great Spruce Forests of the North. That was chiefly because it was bred in the bone with him. He threw back to the forty years of his father's Factor-life as truly as an Indian retains the wild instinct of his forefathers, though he delve for half a lifetime in the civilization of the White Man.

"Here is de Marten tracks," cried François, stopping suddenly; and with precise celerity he built a little converging stockade by placing in the ground sharp-pointed sticks. In this he set a small steel Trap, covered it with leaves, and beyond placed the head of a fish.

"What's that track?" asked The Boy, as his companion stopped and looked at the trail of some big-footed creature.

"Cat," answered François; "dat's Mister Lynk. He like for smell some t'ing, so I give him Castoreum me for rub on hes nose-perhaps some necktie too."

He cut a stick four feet long and four inches thick, and to the middle of it fastened a running noose made from cod-line. Then building a stockade similar to the last, and placing a fish-head smeared with Castoreum inside, he bent down a small Poplar and from it suspended the noose covering the entrance to the stockade.

"Now, Mister Lynk he go for smell dat," explained François. "He put hes fat head t'rough dat noose; perhaps he don't get him out no more. By Goss! he silly; when dat string get tight he fight wid de stick, an' jump, and play de fool. De stick don't say not'ing, but jump too, of course, cause it loose, you see. If de stick be fas' den de Lynk break de string; but dis way dey fight, an' by an' by dat Lynk he dead for soor, I t'ink me."

"He has queer taste," said The Boy, "to risk his neck for that stuff-it's worse than a Skunk."

They moved on, and behind, quite out of sight, but examining each contrivance of the Trapper, came Black Fox, Muskwa, Blue Wolf, Mooswa, and Carcajou. Whisky-Jack was with them; now flying ahead to discover where the enemy were, now fluttering back with a dismal "Pee weep! Pee weep!" to report and rail at things generally.

Carcajou at times travelled on three legs. "Got a thorn in your foot?" queried the Jay? solicitously.

"Toes are cold," answered Wolverine, shortly.

"He-a-weep!" laughed Whisky-Jack, sneeringly; "they were hot enough last night, when you called on François through the chimney. Whose toes are sore to-day, Mister Carcajou? And the fur is burnt off your back-excuse me while I laugh;" and the Bird gave vent to a harsh, cackling chuckle.

"Hello!" Carcajou exclaimed, suddenly. "I smell Castoreum; or is it Sikak the Skunk?"

When they came to the Lynx Snare, almost immediately, he circled around gingerly in the snow, examining every bush, and stick, and semblance of track; then he peered into the little stockade. "It's all right!" he declared; "that François is a double-dealing Breed. I have known him set a Snare like this for Pisew, and a little to one side put a Number Four Steel Trap, nicely covered up, to catch an unsuspicious, simple-minded Wolverine."

"Why don't you also say honest, modest, Wolverine?" derided Whisky-Jack.

"But that's a Snare for Pisew, right enough," continued Carcajou.

"It is!" added Black Fox.

"Watch me spring it!" commanded Carcajou, tearing with his strong jaws and stronger feet at the fastening which held down the bent poplar. Swish! And the freed sapling shot into the air, dangling the cord like a hangman's noose invitingly before their eyes. "Now if any one wants the Fish-head, he may have it," he added.

"Not with Castoreum Sauce," said Black Fox. Even Blue Wolf turned his nose up at it.

"Well, I'll eat it myself," bravely remarked Wolverine, "for I'm hungry."

"You always are, 'Gulo the Glutton,' as Men call you," twittered Jay.

"I don't care for hot pork, though," retorted the other, making a grimace at the Bird.

"I believe they are heading for your house, Black Fox," remarked Rof, as they trudged on again.

"François is setting a Trap in the King's Palace-in the Court Yard," cried Whisky-Jack, fluttering back to meet them. Sure enough, as the friends crouched in a little coulee they could see the Half-breed covering up a "No. 3" directly in front of Fox's hole. Near the Trap François deposited two pieces of meat.

"If the Old Lady comes out she'll get her toes pinched," remarked Carcajou.

Black Fox laughed. "When François catches Mother, we all shall be very dead."

When the Trapper had gone, the Comrades drew close, and gingerly reconnoitred. "Only one Trap!" cried Carcajou; "this is too easy." Cautiously fishing about in the snow he found a chain; pulling the Trap out, he gave it a yank-something touched the centre-plate, and it went off with a vicious snap that made their hearts jump.

"Is the Bait all right, Whisky-Jack," asked Black King. "Was there any talk of White Powder?"

"There's nothing in it," replied the Bird; "I saw them cut the Meat."

"Well, Jack and I will eat one piece; there's a piece for you, Rof. In this year of scarce food even the Death Bait is acceptable-though it's but a tooth-full. Are you hungry, Muskwa?"

"No; I am sleepy. I think I'll go to bed to-morrow for all Winter. You fellows have kept me up too late now."

"Give me a paw to break the ice in the stream, Muskwa-I'm going to cache this Trap," said Carcajou.

"All right," yawned Bear; "I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'm afraid my liver is out of order."

"Shouldn't eat so much," piped Whisky-Jack.

Muskwa slouched down to the river; Wolverine grabbed up the Trap in his strong jaws and followed. Bruin scraped the snow to one side deftly, uncovering a patch of the young ice, and two or three powerful blows from his mighty paw soon shivered a hole in it. Carcajou dropped the Trap through, saying, "It will close over to-night, and to-morrow perhaps the wind will cover it with snow."

The King looked on admiringly.

"Bra-vo! br-a-a-vo!" growled Blue Wolf. "I might have put my foot in that when I came to visit the Widow."

And so all day the conspirators followed François and The Boy, undoing their work.

To Muskwa's horror, near the nest he had prepared for his long Winter's rest they found a huge Bear Trap. At sight of its yawning jaws drops of perspiration dripped from Bruin's tongue. "Sweet Sleep! what should I do if I were to put a leg in that awful thing-it would crack the bone, I believe. Who in the name of Forest Fools told François where my house was?"

"Whisky-Jack, likely," snapped Carcajou, malignantly.

"Not I," declared Jay-"I swear it! I keep the Law. What evil I've got to say of any one, I say to his face; I'm no traitor. You're a thief, Carcajou-your ears were cut off for stealing! Your head's as smooth as a Bird's egg, and you're a quarrelsome Blackguard-but did I ever accuse you of betraying our Comrades?"

"Never mind, Sweet Singer," answered Wolverine, apologetically, "I didn't mean it. Nobody told François; it was your own big feet, Muskwa. If you weren't half asleep you'd know that you left a trail like the passing of Train Dogs."

"How shall we spring the Trap?" asked Bear.

"Don't touch it," commanded Carcajou. "Just leave it, and François will spend many days waiting for your thick fur."

"But if I 'hole-up' here the Man will break into my house and kill me while I sleep."

"How can he find you?" asked Jack, incredulously. "It's going to snow again, you'll be all covered up deep and he'll never know where you are."

"Won't he, Little Brother? Man is not so stupid. How do you suppose I breathe? There'll be a little hole right up through the snow, all yellow about the edges, and François will find that; also, if there's frost in the air, see my breath. No; I've got to make another nest now. I should have turned in before the snow fell, then I'd have been all right."

"We'll help you fix a new house," said Black King; "but you had better wait-perhaps this snow will go away; then there will be no tracks to lead Trappers to your nest. It is really too bad to keep you up when you are so sleepy, but it's the only way."

"And to think how I worked over it," lamented Muskwa. "For a week I carried sticks until my arms ached; and scraped up leaves, and spruce boughs, and soft moss, until my hands were sore. It would have been the finest 'hole-up' of any Bear within the Boundaries. Umisk boasts about his old Mud Lodge, with the lower floor all flooded with water-it's enough to give one rheumatism. New Ant Hills! I shouldn't like to live in a cold, cheerless place like that. If I had just pulled all that nice warm covering over me before the snow fell, I should have been as comfortable as little Gopher in his hole. It's too bad!"

"I'll tell you what we will do, Muskwa," said Black King; "we'll ask the Old Lady about this thing. You wouldn't mind a nice dry hole in a cut-bank somewhere, would you-if the snow lasts and you can't make another nest? She knows all the empty houses from Athabasca to Peel River. I am in the same fix myself, for the family are moving to-day-though we have lived in our present quarters for a matter of four years."

"That's a King for you!" cried Whisky-Jack. "He's like a Father to us," concurred Blue Wolf.

"Now we'll go back," ordered Black Fox; "the Man has set all his Traps. See! here's the mark of an empty bag on the snow. If you discover anything new, come to the big dead Cottonwood-the one that was struck by storm-fire-at Two Rapids, and give the Boundary Call. I don't want you making a trail up to our new house for François to follow."

THE OTTER SLIDE

For the next few days François was busy completing his Marten Road, quite unconscious of the undoing that followed him. Fifteen miles out he constructed a small rest-house that would do for a night's camping; thus he could go the round of his Traps nicely in two days. The People of the Boundaries watched him, and where they found a Trap, sprang it and stole the Bait. He fixed up the chimney that had suffered from Carcajou's diabolical curiosity. Winter had properly set in; streams were frozen up, the ground covered with snow, and the days were of scarce more length than a long drawn out forenoon. Affairs were in this state when one morning the Red Widow heard Beaver's plaintive whistle from the Cottonwood.

"Son," she cried to Black Fox, "Umisk calls; something has gone wrong in the Forest." The King turned over, stretched his sinewy legs, and yawned; the sharp-pointed, blood-red tongue curled against the roof of his mouth, and the strong teeth gleamed white against the background of his lacquer coat. It was a full-drawn, lazy protest against being roused from slumber, for a brace of Pin-tail Grouse lying in the corner of his cave gave evidence of much energy during the previous night.

"Bother this being King!" he yapped crabbedly. "To take care of one's own relatives is trouble enough. By the Howl of a Hungry Wolf! I saved Stripes from a Trap yesterday-just in the nick of time to keep him from grabbing the Bait. Now Trowel Tail is after me. This place was bad enough when there were only Animals here-I mean Animals of our own knowing, Mother; now that this other kind of Animal, Man, has come, it's simply awful. They must be a bad lot, these Men. We fear Wolf when he is hungry, and Muskwa when there are no Berries, but Man is always crying, 'E-go, Kil-l-Kil-l!'"

Again Umisk's shrill little treble cut the keen frosty air. "Hurry, Lad!" cried the Widow; "likely his family is in trouble."

Black Fox stuck his head cautiously from the entrance to their Burrow, and peered through the massive drapery of Birch-tree roots which completely veiled that part of the cut-bank. "Mother," he said, "make the Boys use the log-path when they're coming home, or François will hole us up one of these fine days."

"I have told them, Son; your two Brothers were cross-hatching the trail all yesterday afternoon. There are three blind holes within five miles up the stream, and to each one they have made a nice little false trail to amuse this Stealer of Skins."

"That's all right, Mother; we can't be too careful."

He stretched each hind-leg far out, throwing his head high to loosen the neck-muscles and expand his chest, shook the folds of his heavy, black cloak and yawned again. Then stooping low in the cave-mouth, with a powerful spring he alighted upon a log which crossed from one cut-bank to another of the stream. Umisk was whistling a quarter of a mile away down the left bank, but Black Fox started off up the right. As he trotted along he sang: -

 
"The trail that leads from nowhere to nowhere,
Is the track of the King of the Tribe of Beware."
 

Suddenly he stopped, crept under a big log, and then emerged, tail first, backing up cautiously and putting his feet down carefully in the tracks he had made. "They'll find me asleep in there," he chuckled; and hummed, softly: -

 
"Under the log the King is asleep;
Creep gently, Brother, creep;
Under the log is the old Fox nest;
Creep, Brother-mind his rest."
 

Suddenly jumping sideways over a great Spruce lying prone on the ground, he started off again, singing merrily: -

 
"The track that breaks
Is a new track made;
For eyes are sharp
Where the nose is dead."
 

Down the stream, below where Umisk was waiting, Black King crossed, saying to himself: "Now, François, when I go home the trail will be complete, with no little break at my front door-dear François, sweet François."

With Umisk was Carcajou waiting for the King.

"What's up?" asked Black Fox.

"The Man has found us out," squeaked Umisk, despairingly.

"Too bad, too bad!" cried the King, with deep sympathy in his voice. "Anything happened-any one caught?"

"Nothing serious at present. One of the Babes lost a toe-mighty close shave."

"How did the Breed work it? The old game of breaking in your house-the Burglar?"

"No; that's too stupid for François. Muskegs! but he is clever. The thing must have been done last night. He cut a hole in the ice of my pond near the dam, then shoved a nice, beautiful piece of Poplar, with a steel Trap attached, down into the water-one end in the mud, you know, and the other up in the ice. Of course it froze solid there. First-Kit, that's my eldest Son, saw it in the morning, and, thinking one of our bread-sticks had got away, went down to bring it back. Mind you, I didn't know anything about this; he is an ambitious little Chap and wanted to do it all himself. Of course the Poplar was fast-he couldn't budge it; so climbed up to cut it off at the ice, with the result that he sprang the Trap and incidentally lost a toe."

"It's great schooling for the Children, though, isn't it?" remarked Black King, trying to put a good face on affairs.

"It's mighty hard on their toes," whined Beaver. "Hope it wasn't his nippers-forgot to look into that."

"Nothing like bringing them up to take care of themselves," declared Carcajou. "All the same, my Wood-chopper Friend, you just cut off that stick and float it, with the Trap, to one of your air-holes; I'll cache it for François."

"I was thinking of keeping it," added Umisk, "to teach the Youngsters what a Trap is like."

"Well, just as you wish; only I'll go and make a little trail from the spot off into the woods, so our busy Friend will think I've taken it. Hello, Nekik!" he continued, as Otter came sliding through the snow on his belly; "has François been visiting you too?"

"I don't know; there is something the matter with my Slide. It isn't as I left it yesterday."

"Birds of a Feather! Birds of a Feather!" screamed Whisky-Jack, fluttering to a limb over their heads. "What's the caucus about this morning-discussing chances of a breakfast this year of starvation and scarcity of Wapoos? Mild Winter! but I had a big feed. The Boy no more knows the value of food than he knows the depravity of Carcajou's mind."

"Great hand for throwing away hot pork, isn't he, Jack?" asked Wolverine, innocently.

The Jay blinked his round bead-eyes, snapped his beak, and retorted: "They put in their evenings laughing over the roasting you got when you dropped into the fire."

"Where's François, Babbler?" asked the King.

"Gone out to bring in Deer Meat."

"Did he make a Kill?"

"U-h-huh! my crop is full."

"You horrid Beast!" cried Carcajou, disgustedly. "Where is it cached?"

"Not Mooswa?" broke in Black King, with a frightened voice.

"No-Caribou. Such a big shovel to his horn too-must have been of the Knowledge Age. Ugh! should have known better than to let a Man get near him. Of course François stuck the head on a tree to make peace with Manitou, and I'm fixed for a month."

"Cannibal!" again exclaimed Carcajou. "Where did you say your friend, Murderer, had cached the quarters?"

"'Cannibal,' eh? Go and find out, Glutton. Be careful, though-I saw some one handling the White Medicine last night."

"The White Medicine!" ejaculated Black Fox, turning with dismay to the speaker.

"Uh, huh! but I never steal the Bait, like Carcajou, so I don't care. I eat what the Men eat."

"What they leave, you mean, Scavenger-what they throw to the Dogs!" retorted the Lieutenant.

"You'll get enough of Dogs, First-Cousin-to-Ground Hog-François says he is going to have a train of them. They will squeeze your fat back if you come prowling about the Shack to steal food."

"Dogs," growled Blue Wolf, coming into the circle, – "who's got Dogs?"

"You'll have them-on your back, presently," snapped the Jay. "Saw you sniffing around there last night. If your jaws were as long as your scent you would have had that leg off the roof, eh, Rof? Burnt Feathers! but I smell something," he continued; "has any one found a Castoreum Bait, and got it in his pocket? I don't mean you, Beaver, you don't smell very bad. Oh! here you are, Sikak; it's you-I might have known what sweet Forest Flower had cut loose from its stalk. Have you been rolling in the dead Rose leaves this morning, my lover of Perfume?"

The white-striped Skunk pattered with quick, mincing little steps into the group, his back humped up and his terrible tail carried high, ready to resent any insult.

"Smothered anybody this morning, Sikak?" asked the Bird.

A laugh went round the circle at this sally of Jack's; for Skunk's method of fighting did not meet with universal approval. Blue Wolf thought Sikak was a good piece of meat clean thrown away. When hungry he could manage Badger, or even Porcupine; but Skunk! "Ur-r-r, agh!" it turned his stomach to think of the dose he had received once when he tried it.

"Good-morning, Your Majesty!" said Lynx, as he arrived shortly after Skunk.

"How is everybody up your way?" queried Jack. "How are all the young Wapooses?"

Lynx grinned deprecatingly.

"Pisew is not likely to forget the Law of the Seventh Year," remarked Carcajou, with a sinister expression, "so he is not so deeply interested in young Wapoos as he used to be."

"What is the meeting for?" asked Lynx.

"François has been visiting the pond of our little Comrade, Umisk," replied Black King.

"And has been at my Slide, too," declared Otter.

"Well, Comrades, we had better go with Nekik and examine into this thing," commanded the King.

"Oh, of course!" cried Jack; "every community must have Fishery Laws, and have its Fisheries protected."

The Otter slide was exactly like a boy's coasting chute on a hill. A smooth, iced trough ran down the snow-covered bank, a matter of fifteen feet, to the stream's edge, ending in an ice hole that Otter managed to keep open all Winter. Generally speaking, it was Nekik's entrance to his river-home, and in the event of danger demanding a quick disappearance, he could shoot down it into the water like a bullet. It was also a play-ground for Otter's family; their favourite pastime being to glide helter-skelter down the chute and splash into the stream.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Black Fox. "There's a nasty odour of Man about, I admit, but your Slide seems all clear and smooth."

"Something's been changed. I had a little drop put in the centre for the Youngsters, and they liked it-thought it was like falling off a bank, you know; now that part is filled up nearly level, you see. I don't know what is in it-was afraid to look; but expect François has set a Trap there."

"I'll find out," said Carcajou. "These Traps all work from the top-I've discovered that much. If you keep walking about, you're pretty sure to get into one of them; but if you sit down and think, and scrape sideways a bit, you'll get hold of something that won't go off." Talking thus, he dug with his strong claws at the edge of the Slide. "I thought so!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Here's a ring around a stake-I know what that means!"

Feeling cautiously for the chain, he presently pulled out a No. 3 steel Trap. With notched jaws wide open, and tip-plate holding its flat surface up inviting the loosening pressure, it was a vicious-looking affair.

"Let me spring it," said Wolf; "I'm used to them." Grabbing the chain end in his teeth, he threw the Trap over his head as a dog does a bone in play, and when it came down the sides clanged together with hurried fondness.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" whistled Otter. "Something told me not to go down that Slide. I felt it in my bones."

"You'd have felt it on your bones," piped Jay, ironically, "if you had slid your fat belly over that Trap."

"Oh, I'm just dying for a slide and a bath," continued Nekik-"here goes!"

"Wait a bit!" commanded Carcajou, grabbing him by the shoulder, "don't be too eager. That isn't François's Lucky Trap. If he has discovered your front stream, you can just depend upon it his Lucky Trap is laid away somewhere for you-it's got two red bands painted on the springs."

As these words of wisdom fell from Carcajou's lips his Comrades gathered their feet more closely under them, and searched the surrounding territory apprehensively with their eyes.

"Where will it be?" cried Nekik, distressedly.

"In the water!" answered Carcajou, with brief decision.

"Dreadful!" whimpered Otter.

"François is a heartless wretch!" declared Beaver. "He tried to play that trick on me once."

"Where was that, Paddle-tail?" queried Jack, who was always eager for a bit of gossip.

"It was when I lived up on Pembina River. You know the way with us Beavers-we always take a month or two of holiday every Summer, and visit our Friends. It was in June-I remember; I opened the Lodge to let it air, and started down stream with my whole family. Of course we passed many Beaver-roads running to the river, and when we thought they belonged to friends we'd pull out and go up on the bank. Carcajou, you know the little round bowl of mud we Beaver leave on our river-roads for visitors' cards?"

"Yes," replied Wolverine; "they're a rather good idea. You always know just who has passed, don't you?"

"Yes, we can tell, generally. Well, as I was saying, we went up the bank in one of these Roads, and by the odour of the little clay mound I knew that Red Jowl, a cousin of mine, was just inside the Wood-or had been. So the family went among the Poplars to have a bite of bread; and just as we were felling a tree whom should I see but François drifting down the river in his canoe; we kept pretty close, you had better believe."

"Didn't call out to him, Umisk, eh?" asked Jay-"didn't clap each other on the back with your tails and say, 'Here comes a Chum.'"

Umisk proceeded, paying no attention to the flippant Bird. "When the Breed came opposite our Road he stopped his canoe, let it drift gently up to the bank, pulled out a Trap and set it in muddy water just at the foot of the path. He was clever enough not to touch the land even with his paddle, so there was no scent-nothing to warn a poor Beaver of the danger. Then he floated on down. If I had not seen the whole thing this depraved taker of our lives would have caught me sure; for you know how we go into the water, Nekik, just as you do-head and hands first."

"That's an old trick of François's," exclaimed Carcajou; "and you'll find that is just what he has done here. If Mister Nekik will feel cautiously at the foot of his Slide he will find something hard and smooth, not at all like a stick or a stone."

"Fat Fish! but I'm afraid of my fingers," whistled Otter.

"Sure, if you work from the top," retorted Carcajou. "Sideways is the game with the Trap always-or upward."

"You forgot that, Mister Carcajou, when you tackled the Chimney," twittered Jay.

"I didn't burn my tongue, anyway."

"Is Nekik afraid to safeguard his own Slide," sneered Whisky-Jack.

"Shut up, Quarrel Maker!" interposed the King, "you know Otter is one of the pluckiest fighters inside the Boundaries. It's only brainless Animals who tackle things they know nothing about."

"Dive their beaks into hot Pork, your Most Wise Majesty," echoed Lynx, with a fawning smile.

"Here's Sakwasew, he'll find the Trap, he's a water dweller," exclaimed Carcajou, as Mink, attracted by their chatter, came wandering down the stream. "Here, little Black-tail," he continued, "just dip down the hole there and look for evidence of François's deviltry."

"It's against the Law of the Boundaries," pleaded Mink, "for me to use Otter's ice hole. By the Kink in my Tail, I'm not like some of my Comrades, always breaking the laws."

"Aren't you, Mink? Who cut the throats of Gray Hen, the Grouse's, Children, last July, when they were still in their pin-feathers? But I suppose that isn't breaking the Law of the Boundaries," cried Lynx, taking Mink's observation to himself.

"Oh, no," chipped in Whisky-Jack; "certain of you Animals think keeping the Law is not getting caught. My own opinion is, you're as bad as Men. When François puts out the White Death-powder, he thinks he is keeping Man's law if the Red Coats do not catch him; and Sakwasew cuts the throat of Chick-Grouse, and you, Pisew, eat Kit Beaver, and it's all within the Law if there be no witnesses. I don't know what we are coming to."

"Stop wrangling, you Subjects!" commanded Black King; and the silvered fur on his back stood straight up in anger. "I'll order Rof to thrash you soundly, if you don't stop this."

Pisew slunk tremblingly behind a tree, and Carcajou, humping his back, exclaimed: "Brother Nekik, I'll fish out that Trap for you; I'm sure it's there-my good nose lines the track of a Man straight to the hole." In less than two minutes he triumphantly swung a steel-jawed thing up on the bank. "There, what did I tell you!" he boasted proudly. "But the ring is on a stout root or stick-cut it off, Umisk, with your strong chisel-teeth, and Fisher will carry it up that big hollow Poplar and cache it in a hole."

"I will, if you spring the jaws first," agreed Fisher.

Otter was overjoyed. "This is fine!" he cried; "I'll be back in a minute!" and he darted down the Slide as an Indian throws the snake-stick over the snow.

"What fine sport!" remarked Carcajou, when Nekik came up again, shaking the water from his strong, bristled mustache.

"Shall we have some games?" suggested the King. "I'll give a fat Pheasant to the one who slides down Nekik's chute best-that is, of course, barring Nekik himself."

"But the water, Your Majesty!" interposed Pisew.