[image]"CAT," ANSWERED FRANÇOIS; "DAT'S MISTER LYNK."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 sayhonest, 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 SLIDEFor 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 breaksIs a new track made;For eyes are sharpWhere 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."I don't want to wet my feet," pleaded Wapistan, the Marten; "if you'll make the race up a tree I will willingly join.""So will I!" concurred Fisher."Or three miles straight over the hill," suggested Blue Wolf."Make it a wrestling match!" said Carcajou."No, no," declared Black King. "No one need go in the hole, of course. When you come to the bottom, spring over to the ice--that will be part of the game."After much wrangling and discussion they all agreed to try it. Mink went first, being more familiar with slides, for he had a little one of his own. He did it rather nicely, but forgetting to jump at the bottom, dove into the water."That rules you out!" decided the King. "You left the course, you see. Go on, Rof!"Blue Wolf fixed himself gingerly at the upper end of the Slide, and, at the last minute, decided to take it sitting, riding down on his great haunches. This worked first-rate, until the ice was reached. Rof was going with so much speed by this time, that he couldn't gather for a spring; his hind quarters slipped through the hole, which, being just about his size, caused him to wedge tight. He gave a roar of surprise that made the woods ring, for the stream was icy cold. "Keep your nose above water or you'll drown, old Bow-wow," piped Jay.[image]ROF WAS GOING WITH SO MUCH SPEED, ... THAT HE COULDN'T GATHER FOR A SPRING.It took the combined strength of Beaver and Carcajou to pull the grumbling animal out. "By the White Spot on my Tail," laughed Black King, "but I thought for a time you were going to win. Your turn, Pisew." Lynx made a grimace of dislike, for his cat nature revolted at the thought of water, but he crept on to the slide with nervous steps."You won't get in the hole," jeered Jack; "your feet are too big."Pisew tried it standing up, with arched back, just for all the world like a cat on a garden fence. As he neared the bottom at lightning speed, confusion seized him; he tried to spring, but only succeeded in throwing a half somersault, and plunged head first into the water. The Jay fairly screamed with delight, and hopped about on his perch overhead in a perfect ecstasy of fiendish enjoyment. "Didn't scorch his tongue a bit!" he cried. "Give him the tail feathers of the Pheasant to dry his face with, oh, Your Majesty! Ha, ha, ha! Pe-he-e-e!" Pisew scrambled out filled with morose anger."That's another failure," adjudged the King. "Who is next?""Carcajou's turn!" instigated Whisky-Jack. "He knows all about sliding up and down chimneys--he'll win, sure!""I will try it," grunted the fat, little Chap; "but if you make fun of me, Jack, I'll wring your neck first chance I get."Wolverine shuffled clumsily to the starting post, studied the Slide critically for a minute with his little snake-like eyes, then deliberately turned over on his back, and prepared for the descent."Tuck in your ears!" shouted Whisky Jack. Now this was an insult. Carcajou's ears were so very short that they were generally supposed to have been cut off for stealing. However, Wolverine started, tail first, holding his head up between his fore-paws to judge distances. When he struck the bottom, his powerful hind-feet jammed into the snow, and the speed of his going threw him safely over on the ice, landing him right side up on all-fours."Capital! Capital!" yapped Black King, patting his furred hands together in approval. "That will be pretty hard to beat. Skunk, you're a clever little Fellow, see if you can make a tie of it with Carcajou." Sikak moved up to the Slide with a peculiar rocking-horse-like gallop. Taking his cue from Carcajou he decided to go down the same way. Now, in the excitement of the thing the animals had gathered close to the Slide, lining it on both sides."Cranky little White-streak!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack; "why don't you make a speech before you start."Skunk had never travelled in this shape before, and was nervous. During his delay over getting a straight start, Carcajou and Mink, half-way down, got into an altercation about a good seat that each claimed."Keep it, then, Glutton!" whined Sakwasew, starting across the chute. As he did so, Skunk got away rather prematurely, coming down with the speed of a snow-slide off a roof. He struck Mink full amidship, and thinking it was a diabolical trick on the part of the others, developed an angry odour that would have put a Lyddite shell to shame.A wild scramble took place."Fat Hens!" shrieked Black King, as he fled through the Forest, his long brush trailing in the snow."I'm choking!" screamed Carcajou. "By the power of all Forest Smells, was there ever such a disgraceful Chap on the face of the Earth;" and he scurried away with his short legs, just for all the world like a Bear Cub.Fisher climbed a tree in hot haste, as did Marten. Mink dove in the Otter's hole and disappeared; but with him he carried the evil thing, for he was full of the blue halo that vibrated from his skunk-smirched coat. "I shall never be able to go home any more," he moaned; "my relatives will kill me."Even Jay clasped one claw over his nose and flew wildly through the forest, almost knocking out his brains against branches. In ten seconds there was nobody left on the ground but Otter and poor little white-striped Skunk. The collision had sent him rolling over and over down to the ice bottom of the stream. He got up, shook himself, used some very bad animal language, and slunk away to his family, to tell them of the trick Carcajou and Mink had played him."That Glutton was afraid I'd win the Pheasant," he confided to Mrs. Sikak; "but I broke up the party, anyway."Otter was wandering about disconsolately through the woods, declaiming to the trees that his Slide was ruined for all time to come, and he really wished the Trap had ended his days.THE TRAPPING OF WOLVERINEWhen François missed the Beaver trap that had been placed in the dam, and that Umisk had taken for his sons to study, also the two set on Otter's slide, it made him furious. He knew Wolverine must have cached them. Once before he had been forced to give up a good Marten Road because of the relentless ingenuity of this almost human-brained animal; but it would be different this time, the Half-breed declared--he would make a fight of it."I keel me dat Carcajou!" he exclaimed emphatically over and over again to The Boy. "Dat Debil ob de Wood he eat my bait, an' cac'e de Trap, an' come an' sit dere by de door an' listen what we talk. I see de track dis mornin'."The very night François made this boast, Wolverine came and entirely appropriated the remaining hind-quarter of his Caribou from the roof. When the Half-breed discovered this fresh mark of his enemy's energetic attention he became inarticulate with ire."Why don't you try the strychnine on him?" asked Roderick."Dat no use," declared the enraged Trapper; "when I put poison in de bait, Carcajou come, smell him, den he do some dirty trick on it for make me swear. But I catc' him soor--I put de gun wid pull-string."He spent the greater part of the next day arranging a muzzle-loading shot gun, with a trade ball in it, for the destruction of the animal who had stolen his venison. François had seen Wolverine's own private little path for coming up the bank of the Pelican, and on this he staked down the gun and put some pine logs on either side, so that Carcajou must take the bait from in front. The gun was left cocked, with a string attached to the trigger; on the string, just at the muzzle, was tied a piece of Caribou meat.Wolverine chuckled when he saw the arrangement. "Poor old François!" he muttered ironically: "this is really too bad; it's actual robbery to take that Bait--it's so easy."Now this little wood-dweller had a most decided streak of vanity in his make-up. Like many really smart men, he liked to show off his cunning--that was his weakness. "This is a good chance to give some of the others an object lesson," he said to himself, sitting down to wait for an audience. Presently Blue Wolf and Lynx came in sight, jogging along together. "Eur-r-r-r!" said Wolf, hoarsely; "had any Eating this day, Gulo?""No appetite," declared Carcajou, getting up so the half-starved Lynx might see his well-rounded stomach."Most wise Lieutenant," smirked Pisew, "what wisdom hast thou originated this day?""That's a queer thing, isn't it?" remarked Carcajou, nodding his broad forehead towards the baited gun.Blue Wolf looked, took a wide detour, and approached it from the side. The others followed in his footsteps."Years have given you sagacity, Mister Rof," commended Wolverine. "From the side always, eh? Danger sits on top, and Death waits in front.""My nose finds a Bait!" answered Wolf."It's Meat!" added Pisew, working his mustached upper lip like a cat."I smell powder!" declared Carcajou, quietly."The evil breath of the Ironstick?" queried Blue Wolf. "Perhaps the White Death-powder makes that peculiar odour," he hazarded."No," asserted Carcajou; "François knows better than that: to smell that Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us cares to pay. François knows that we smell first, and bite last; and if our noses detected aught amiss would we pull the string with our teeth?""Wise Lieutenant!" murmured Lynx."Cunning old Thief!" mused Wolf to himself."Do either of you food-hunters want it?" asked Carcajou."I'm not very hungry this morning," answered Blue Wolf."I discovered seven Deer Mice under a log not two hours ago," lied Pisew; "sweet, long-eared little Chaps they were, and quite fat from eating the seeds of the yellow-lipped Sunflower--most delicious flavour it gives to their flesh. My stomach is at peace for the first time in many days.""Keep your eye open for the Breed-Man, then," commanded Wolverine; "I think I'd relish that Caribou steak--your Deer-Mice have given me an appetite." He tore the pine logs away from one side of the gun, examined the string critically, cut it with his sharp teeth just behind the bait, and devoured the fresh meat with great gusto, smacking his lips with a tantalizing suggestiveness of good fare."In case of accidents I think I'd better break up this Ironstick," he said. Seizing the hammer in his strong jaws, and placing his paws on the barrel and stock, he tore it off and completely demolished the old muzzle-loader."Well," yawned Wolf, stretching himself, "you're a match for the Man, I believe. I'm off, for I've got a long run ahead of me--the Pack gathers to-night at Deep Creek.""What's the run--Stag?" asked Pisew, insinuatingly."Whatever it may be it will be all eaten," answered Rof; "so you needn't trail. Good-bye, Lieutenant," he barked, loping with powerful strides through the woods out of sight."I'll go with you, most wise Lieutenant," declared Pisew."Well, trot along in front," grunted Carcajou; "I want to fix the trail a bit." After they had walked for half an hour Wolverine stopped, and, cocking his eye up a slim pole which seemed to grow from the centre of a high Spruce stump, exclaimed, "Great-Eating! what in the name of Wiesahkechack is that?""Meat!" answered Pisew, looking at something which dangled from the top of the pole."It's François again," said Carcajou, sniffing at the stump."What a splendid cache," cried Lynx, admiringly; "nobody but Squirrel could climb that pole.""But they might knock it down," declared Carcajou. "I have a notion to try.""Better leave it alone," advised Pisew. "If it's François, there's something wrong.""Carcajou doesn't take advice from a cotton-headed Cat," sneered the other. "Easy Killing! but I'm going up to see what it's like. I know that stump--it's hollow; there is no chance for a Trap there." It was about three feet high. Wolverine made a running jump, grabbing the top edge to pull himself up; as he did so something snapped. A howl of enraged surprise came from the little animal as he dangled with hind toes just touching the ground, and his fore-paws in a steel Trap which he had pulled over the side. The cunning Breed had blocked up his Trap on the inside of the hollow shell, where it was invisible from the ground."For the Sake of Security! don't make such a noise," pleaded Pisew."Fool-talker!" retorted Carcajou; "come and help me out of this fix.""I can't open the Trap," objected Lynx; "why, it would take the strength of Muskwa to flatten its springs.""Run to the King and ask for help, as is the law of the Boundaries," ordered Wolverine."Gently, Mister Lieutenant, gently; don't get so excited--keep cool.""Wait till I get out of this," screamed Carcajou; "I'll warm your jacket.""There, there," returned Lynx, "don't threaten me--don't abuse me, and I'll help you--""That's a good Pisew--hurry, please--François may come--""On one condition," added Lynx, sitting down on his haunches with deliberate self-possession."Hang the conditions!" blustered Carcajou--"talk of conditions with a Fellow's fingers in a steel Trap!""All the same, I'll only do it on one condition--when they talked the other day of making me King--""'Theytalked,'" interrupted Carcajou; "nobody talked of making you King.""Youdidn't, I know, Lieutenant; but that's just what I want you to promise now, before I help you.""I'll see you Snared first!" grunted Wolverine, snapping at the Trap chain which was fastened to the pole, until he screamed with pain."All right--I'm off! François will soon find you," declared Pisew."Come back!" cried the entrapped Animal. "What do you wish?""Well, if anything happens Black King, we'll need another ruler--anyway, next year there'll be an election, and I want you to stick up for me as you did for Black Fox. You're so wise and eloquent, dear Carcajou, that the others will do just as you advise. I could make it worth while, too, if there were any charges against you; suppose some one accused you unjustly of having eaten a Cub or a Kit under the Killing Age, why, I could see that nothing happened, you know.""Sneak! Thief! Murderer!" ejaculated Carcajou disdainfully. "If I could but get out of this fix, I'd eat you.""What's the row, you Fellows?" piped a bird-voice, as Whisky-Jack swooped down to a small Poplar, and craned his neck in amazement at the sight he beheld. "By my Lonely Life!" he chuckled, "if here isn't the King of all Knaves sitting with his hands in the stocks. Great Rations! but you're a wise one; whose toes hurt now, Mister Mocker? Why doesn't that cat-faced Lynx help you out?""I offered to," declared Pisew, "but his temper is so vile I dare not touch him. He threatened to kill me--I'm afraid to go near him.""Why don't you run to Black King for help, you stupid--you can't open that Trap.""Wise Bird," almost sobbed Carcajou, in his gratitude, "this scheming rascal took advantage of my misfortune, and tried to make me promise to do something for him, or he would let François catch me.""Pisew is not to be trusted--he is too much like a Man," asserted Jack. Turning to the Lynx, he exclaimed, angrily: "You go on the back-trail there, and if François comes, lead him off slowly; just keep in his sight--he'll follow you. I will get the Lieutenant out of this. Mind, if you play any tricks, or break the Oath of the Boundaries, the King will command Blue Wolf to break your back--he'll do it too. I'm off for help," he said to the prisoner; "just keep your courage up, old Carey;" and working his fan-like wings with exceeding diligence, he dove through the woods at a great rate toward the King's Burrow."I was only joking, dear friend Carcajou," said Lynx, fawningly, for he dreaded the anger of the other animals. "Don't say a word about it to the King; he might think I was in earnest.""Traitor!" snarled Wolverine; "go back and watch for François.""Don't say any more about it," pleaded Pisew, "and I'll watch, oh, so carefully, most loyal, true Lieutenant."Whisky-Jack's shrill call from a tree startled the family of the Red Widow."Quick, Royal Son," she cried, "there's a danger signal. Listen: 'Hee-e-e-p, hee-e-ep, he-e-e-ep!' That means some one caught. Where are my Sons? All here but Stripes, Goodness!" She wrung her paws miserably, and in her eagerness rushed to the door. "What is it, Bringer of Evil News? Who's caught--not my Baby Cub?" she asked of Whisky-Jack."No, Good Dame. Would you believe it, the cleverest one in all the Boundaries, excepting your Son, is now keeping the jaws of a Trap apart with his own soft paws--it's Carcajou.""What's to do?" cried Black Fox, joining his Mother."Carcajou is caught!" she answered, heaving a sigh of relief that it wasn't Cross-stripes.Jay Bird explained the situation."Nobody but Muskwa can spring a Number Four Trap," asserted the King; "and he is holed up these two days--isn't he, Mother?""Yes," she assented. "And asleep by now. You will find him at the big Burrow that is in the fourth cut-bank from here up stream.""The old Chap must get up, then," cried Black Fox, with emphasis, "for he is not in the deep frost-sleep yet. Here, Jack, run and bring Beaver to cut off the pole Carcajou's Trap is ringed to, and I'll go for Muskwa; if you see Rof, tell him to meet me at Bear's Burrow."The King had a tremendous time with Muskwa. Bruin was sleepy and cranky. "Quick! wake up, Brother!" Black Fox shouted in his ear. The Bear never moved--simply snored.The energetic visitor turned tail on, and proceeded to rake Bruin's ribs with his strong hind feet as a dog makes the gravel fly. Muskwa grunted and simply flicked his short, woolly ears. The King jumped on him, set up the long howl of the Kill in his very face, put his sharp teeth through one of the nerveless ears, and generally held a small riot over the sleeper. He never would have managed to wake Bear had not Blue Wolf arrived to help him.Muskwa was for all the world like a maudlin, drunken old sailor. "All right, you Fellows," he said groggily, his eyes still closed, "I don't want any more Berries--eat 'em yourself.""Not Berries!" howled Wolf; "Carcajou is in a Trap.""Go 'way--don't believe it. Carcajou's an old Sweep!"Blue Wolf's powerful voice rang the Chase Note in Muskwa's ear. It woke the big fellow sufficiently to enable him to take a side-hook sweep at the offender with his disengaged paw. The blow was a sleepy one, else it had cracked his tormentor's skull."He's coming all right," remarked the King, critically."By the Flavour of Meat, he is!" ejaculated Rof.In the end they got Muskwa on his feet, with a little understanding in his stupor-clogged brain, and half-pushing, half-leading, conducted him to where Carcajou was sitting in the stocks. In his flight Whisky-Jack had met Mooswa, and he was there also. Beaver was chiselling away at the pole; for once loosened, even if they could not spring the Trap sufficiently to get Carcajou's paws out, between them they might manage to get him away and cached somewhere; anything was better than letting him fall into the Trapper's hands."Of all the wood I ever cut this is the worst," panted Umisk, resting for a minute. "It cramps my neck cutting down so close sideways. It is dry Tamarack, the slivers are all sticking in my tongue."As Black Fox and Rof withdrew their paws from under Muskwa's arms, he keeled over lazily and went sound asleep in two seconds. "Give him a good lift with your hind-foot, Mooswa," commanded the King, sharply. "Of all the heavy-brained Animals I ever saw!""If we but had some of Man's fire," opined Jack, "we could wake him up quick enough by singeing a couple of my feathers under his nose."Mooswa planted both hind-feet, bang! in Bear's ribs; Rof gave a deep bay in his face; Black King once more put his saw-like teeth through an ear; and by these gentle, persuasive methods Muskwa was wakened sufficiently to get on his feet. He swayed drunkenly. "Stop fighting, Cubs!" he growled, under the impression that he was being bothered by some of his own children."Get up and squeeze the springs of the Trap--Carcajou is caught! Here they are--put a paw on each--there! squeeze!" yelled Black Fox.Just then Beaver finished cutting the pole, and it fell with a crash--the noise helped waken Muskwa."Slip the ring off the stub, Umisk, that's a good Chap," cried Wolverine. This done, he and the Trap clattered to the ground."Come on!" screamed Black Fox to Muskwa, as he and Rof shouldered him to the Trap. "Squeeze now!" the Fox shouted again, placing Bear's powerful paws on the springs."I'll squeeze," answered Bruin, petulantly; "but why don't you speak louder--say what you mean. You Fellows have all got colds--I can't hear you.""Dead Eagles! but François will," remarked Jay."There, now, a little harder--use your strength, Muskwa!"The Bear pressed his great weight on the springs; they slipped down, and the jaws slowly opened like the sides of a travelling-bag. With a cry of delight Carcajou pulled his bruised fingers out, and in gratitude rubbed his short little Coon-like head against Bruin's great cheek. "Good old Muskwa!" he cried joyfully; "I'll never forget this.""Your fingers will be a long time sore, then," sneered Jay."Never--mind--little friend. It's all right; let me go--to sleep now, don't--don't bother;" and he flopped over like a bag of potatoes, sighed wearily once or twice, and started off with a monotonous, bubbling snore. "He's hopeless," moaned the King. "We'll never get him home.""I saw François just like that once," chirped Whisky-Jack; "he had some medicine in a bottle, and the more of it he took the sleepier he got.""How in the name of Many Birds shall we ever get him back to his hole?" asked Black Fox, perplexedly."I'll carry him," declared the Moose. "Here, you Fellows, roll him up on my horns;" and dropping to his knees Mooswa put the great, chair-like spread of his antlers down to the snow."Come, Pisew, give us a hand," commanded the King. Beaver, and Lynx, and Rof, and Black Fox shouldered and pushed at the huge black ball, and Mooswa kept edging his horn-cradle in under the mass, until finally Muskwa lay snugly in the hollow."Now all give a mighty push, and help me up!" snuffed the Moose. "All right," he added, staggering to his feet, and pointing his nose skyward, allowing the burdened antlers to lie along his withers."Ride with Muskwa, Jack," commanded the King, "and show Mooswa the old Sleeper's house. Branch out, the rest of you, and make the Many-trail; for many trails make few catches." Carcajou was sitting on his haunches, licking his aching paws. "How are you going to get home, Little Comrade?" he asked."I'll give him a lift," interposed Blue Wolf. "Clamber up, old Curiosity." They were a funny-looking party--quite like an ambulance train; Muskwa asleep on Mooswa's horns, and Carcajou astraddle of Wolf's strong back.
[image]"CAT," ANSWERED FRANÇOIS; "DAT'S MISTER LYNK."
[image]
[image]
"CAT," ANSWERED FRANÇOIS; "DAT'S MISTER LYNK."
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 sayhonest, 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."
"The trail that leads from nowhere to nowhere,Is the track of the King of the Tribe of Beware."
"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."
"Under the log the King is asleep;Creep gently, Brother, creep;Under the log is the old Fox nest;Creep, Brother--mind his rest."
"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 breaksIs a new track made;For eyes are sharpWhere the nose is dead."
"The track that breaksIs a new track made;For eyes are sharpWhere the nose is dead."
"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.
"I don't want to wet my feet," pleaded Wapistan, the Marten; "if you'll make the race up a tree I will willingly join."
"So will I!" concurred Fisher.
"Or three miles straight over the hill," suggested Blue Wolf.
"Make it a wrestling match!" said Carcajou.
"No, no," declared Black King. "No one need go in the hole, of course. When you come to the bottom, spring over to the ice--that will be part of the game."
After much wrangling and discussion they all agreed to try it. Mink went first, being more familiar with slides, for he had a little one of his own. He did it rather nicely, but forgetting to jump at the bottom, dove into the water.
"That rules you out!" decided the King. "You left the course, you see. Go on, Rof!"
Blue Wolf fixed himself gingerly at the upper end of the Slide, and, at the last minute, decided to take it sitting, riding down on his great haunches. This worked first-rate, until the ice was reached. Rof was going with so much speed by this time, that he couldn't gather for a spring; his hind quarters slipped through the hole, which, being just about his size, caused him to wedge tight. He gave a roar of surprise that made the woods ring, for the stream was icy cold. "Keep your nose above water or you'll drown, old Bow-wow," piped Jay.
[image]ROF WAS GOING WITH SO MUCH SPEED, ... THAT HE COULDN'T GATHER FOR A SPRING.
[image]
[image]
ROF WAS GOING WITH SO MUCH SPEED, ... THAT HE COULDN'T GATHER FOR A SPRING.
It took the combined strength of Beaver and Carcajou to pull the grumbling animal out. "By the White Spot on my Tail," laughed Black King, "but I thought for a time you were going to win. Your turn, Pisew." Lynx made a grimace of dislike, for his cat nature revolted at the thought of water, but he crept on to the slide with nervous steps.
"You won't get in the hole," jeered Jack; "your feet are too big."
Pisew tried it standing up, with arched back, just for all the world like a cat on a garden fence. As he neared the bottom at lightning speed, confusion seized him; he tried to spring, but only succeeded in throwing a half somersault, and plunged head first into the water. The Jay fairly screamed with delight, and hopped about on his perch overhead in a perfect ecstasy of fiendish enjoyment. "Didn't scorch his tongue a bit!" he cried. "Give him the tail feathers of the Pheasant to dry his face with, oh, Your Majesty! Ha, ha, ha! Pe-he-e-e!" Pisew scrambled out filled with morose anger.
"That's another failure," adjudged the King. "Who is next?"
"Carcajou's turn!" instigated Whisky-Jack. "He knows all about sliding up and down chimneys--he'll win, sure!"
"I will try it," grunted the fat, little Chap; "but if you make fun of me, Jack, I'll wring your neck first chance I get."
Wolverine shuffled clumsily to the starting post, studied the Slide critically for a minute with his little snake-like eyes, then deliberately turned over on his back, and prepared for the descent.
"Tuck in your ears!" shouted Whisky Jack. Now this was an insult. Carcajou's ears were so very short that they were generally supposed to have been cut off for stealing. However, Wolverine started, tail first, holding his head up between his fore-paws to judge distances. When he struck the bottom, his powerful hind-feet jammed into the snow, and the speed of his going threw him safely over on the ice, landing him right side up on all-fours.
"Capital! Capital!" yapped Black King, patting his furred hands together in approval. "That will be pretty hard to beat. Skunk, you're a clever little Fellow, see if you can make a tie of it with Carcajou." Sikak moved up to the Slide with a peculiar rocking-horse-like gallop. Taking his cue from Carcajou he decided to go down the same way. Now, in the excitement of the thing the animals had gathered close to the Slide, lining it on both sides.
"Cranky little White-streak!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack; "why don't you make a speech before you start."
Skunk had never travelled in this shape before, and was nervous. During his delay over getting a straight start, Carcajou and Mink, half-way down, got into an altercation about a good seat that each claimed.
"Keep it, then, Glutton!" whined Sakwasew, starting across the chute. As he did so, Skunk got away rather prematurely, coming down with the speed of a snow-slide off a roof. He struck Mink full amidship, and thinking it was a diabolical trick on the part of the others, developed an angry odour that would have put a Lyddite shell to shame.
A wild scramble took place.
"Fat Hens!" shrieked Black King, as he fled through the Forest, his long brush trailing in the snow.
"I'm choking!" screamed Carcajou. "By the power of all Forest Smells, was there ever such a disgraceful Chap on the face of the Earth;" and he scurried away with his short legs, just for all the world like a Bear Cub.
Fisher climbed a tree in hot haste, as did Marten. Mink dove in the Otter's hole and disappeared; but with him he carried the evil thing, for he was full of the blue halo that vibrated from his skunk-smirched coat. "I shall never be able to go home any more," he moaned; "my relatives will kill me."
Even Jay clasped one claw over his nose and flew wildly through the forest, almost knocking out his brains against branches. In ten seconds there was nobody left on the ground but Otter and poor little white-striped Skunk. The collision had sent him rolling over and over down to the ice bottom of the stream. He got up, shook himself, used some very bad animal language, and slunk away to his family, to tell them of the trick Carcajou and Mink had played him.
"That Glutton was afraid I'd win the Pheasant," he confided to Mrs. Sikak; "but I broke up the party, anyway."
Otter was wandering about disconsolately through the woods, declaiming to the trees that his Slide was ruined for all time to come, and he really wished the Trap had ended his days.
THE TRAPPING OF WOLVERINE
When François missed the Beaver trap that had been placed in the dam, and that Umisk had taken for his sons to study, also the two set on Otter's slide, it made him furious. He knew Wolverine must have cached them. Once before he had been forced to give up a good Marten Road because of the relentless ingenuity of this almost human-brained animal; but it would be different this time, the Half-breed declared--he would make a fight of it.
"I keel me dat Carcajou!" he exclaimed emphatically over and over again to The Boy. "Dat Debil ob de Wood he eat my bait, an' cac'e de Trap, an' come an' sit dere by de door an' listen what we talk. I see de track dis mornin'."
The very night François made this boast, Wolverine came and entirely appropriated the remaining hind-quarter of his Caribou from the roof. When the Half-breed discovered this fresh mark of his enemy's energetic attention he became inarticulate with ire.
"Why don't you try the strychnine on him?" asked Roderick.
"Dat no use," declared the enraged Trapper; "when I put poison in de bait, Carcajou come, smell him, den he do some dirty trick on it for make me swear. But I catc' him soor--I put de gun wid pull-string."
He spent the greater part of the next day arranging a muzzle-loading shot gun, with a trade ball in it, for the destruction of the animal who had stolen his venison. François had seen Wolverine's own private little path for coming up the bank of the Pelican, and on this he staked down the gun and put some pine logs on either side, so that Carcajou must take the bait from in front. The gun was left cocked, with a string attached to the trigger; on the string, just at the muzzle, was tied a piece of Caribou meat.
Wolverine chuckled when he saw the arrangement. "Poor old François!" he muttered ironically: "this is really too bad; it's actual robbery to take that Bait--it's so easy."
Now this little wood-dweller had a most decided streak of vanity in his make-up. Like many really smart men, he liked to show off his cunning--that was his weakness. "This is a good chance to give some of the others an object lesson," he said to himself, sitting down to wait for an audience. Presently Blue Wolf and Lynx came in sight, jogging along together. "Eur-r-r-r!" said Wolf, hoarsely; "had any Eating this day, Gulo?"
"No appetite," declared Carcajou, getting up so the half-starved Lynx might see his well-rounded stomach.
"Most wise Lieutenant," smirked Pisew, "what wisdom hast thou originated this day?"
"That's a queer thing, isn't it?" remarked Carcajou, nodding his broad forehead towards the baited gun.
Blue Wolf looked, took a wide detour, and approached it from the side. The others followed in his footsteps.
"Years have given you sagacity, Mister Rof," commended Wolverine. "From the side always, eh? Danger sits on top, and Death waits in front."
"My nose finds a Bait!" answered Wolf.
"It's Meat!" added Pisew, working his mustached upper lip like a cat.
"I smell powder!" declared Carcajou, quietly.
"The evil breath of the Ironstick?" queried Blue Wolf. "Perhaps the White Death-powder makes that peculiar odour," he hazarded.
"No," asserted Carcajou; "François knows better than that: to smell that Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us cares to pay. François knows that we smell first, and bite last; and if our noses detected aught amiss would we pull the string with our teeth?"
"Wise Lieutenant!" murmured Lynx.
"Cunning old Thief!" mused Wolf to himself.
"Do either of you food-hunters want it?" asked Carcajou.
"I'm not very hungry this morning," answered Blue Wolf.
"I discovered seven Deer Mice under a log not two hours ago," lied Pisew; "sweet, long-eared little Chaps they were, and quite fat from eating the seeds of the yellow-lipped Sunflower--most delicious flavour it gives to their flesh. My stomach is at peace for the first time in many days."
"Keep your eye open for the Breed-Man, then," commanded Wolverine; "I think I'd relish that Caribou steak--your Deer-Mice have given me an appetite." He tore the pine logs away from one side of the gun, examined the string critically, cut it with his sharp teeth just behind the bait, and devoured the fresh meat with great gusto, smacking his lips with a tantalizing suggestiveness of good fare.
"In case of accidents I think I'd better break up this Ironstick," he said. Seizing the hammer in his strong jaws, and placing his paws on the barrel and stock, he tore it off and completely demolished the old muzzle-loader.
"Well," yawned Wolf, stretching himself, "you're a match for the Man, I believe. I'm off, for I've got a long run ahead of me--the Pack gathers to-night at Deep Creek."
"What's the run--Stag?" asked Pisew, insinuatingly.
"Whatever it may be it will be all eaten," answered Rof; "so you needn't trail. Good-bye, Lieutenant," he barked, loping with powerful strides through the woods out of sight.
"I'll go with you, most wise Lieutenant," declared Pisew.
"Well, trot along in front," grunted Carcajou; "I want to fix the trail a bit." After they had walked for half an hour Wolverine stopped, and, cocking his eye up a slim pole which seemed to grow from the centre of a high Spruce stump, exclaimed, "Great-Eating! what in the name of Wiesahkechack is that?"
"Meat!" answered Pisew, looking at something which dangled from the top of the pole.
"It's François again," said Carcajou, sniffing at the stump.
"What a splendid cache," cried Lynx, admiringly; "nobody but Squirrel could climb that pole."
"But they might knock it down," declared Carcajou. "I have a notion to try."
"Better leave it alone," advised Pisew. "If it's François, there's something wrong."
"Carcajou doesn't take advice from a cotton-headed Cat," sneered the other. "Easy Killing! but I'm going up to see what it's like. I know that stump--it's hollow; there is no chance for a Trap there." It was about three feet high. Wolverine made a running jump, grabbing the top edge to pull himself up; as he did so something snapped. A howl of enraged surprise came from the little animal as he dangled with hind toes just touching the ground, and his fore-paws in a steel Trap which he had pulled over the side. The cunning Breed had blocked up his Trap on the inside of the hollow shell, where it was invisible from the ground.
"For the Sake of Security! don't make such a noise," pleaded Pisew.
"Fool-talker!" retorted Carcajou; "come and help me out of this fix."
"I can't open the Trap," objected Lynx; "why, it would take the strength of Muskwa to flatten its springs."
"Run to the King and ask for help, as is the law of the Boundaries," ordered Wolverine.
"Gently, Mister Lieutenant, gently; don't get so excited--keep cool."
"Wait till I get out of this," screamed Carcajou; "I'll warm your jacket."
"There, there," returned Lynx, "don't threaten me--don't abuse me, and I'll help you--"
"That's a good Pisew--hurry, please--François may come--"
"On one condition," added Lynx, sitting down on his haunches with deliberate self-possession.
"Hang the conditions!" blustered Carcajou--"talk of conditions with a Fellow's fingers in a steel Trap!"
"All the same, I'll only do it on one condition--when they talked the other day of making me King--"
"'Theytalked,'" interrupted Carcajou; "nobody talked of making you King."
"Youdidn't, I know, Lieutenant; but that's just what I want you to promise now, before I help you."
"I'll see you Snared first!" grunted Wolverine, snapping at the Trap chain which was fastened to the pole, until he screamed with pain.
"All right--I'm off! François will soon find you," declared Pisew.
"Come back!" cried the entrapped Animal. "What do you wish?"
"Well, if anything happens Black King, we'll need another ruler--anyway, next year there'll be an election, and I want you to stick up for me as you did for Black Fox. You're so wise and eloquent, dear Carcajou, that the others will do just as you advise. I could make it worth while, too, if there were any charges against you; suppose some one accused you unjustly of having eaten a Cub or a Kit under the Killing Age, why, I could see that nothing happened, you know."
"Sneak! Thief! Murderer!" ejaculated Carcajou disdainfully. "If I could but get out of this fix, I'd eat you."
"What's the row, you Fellows?" piped a bird-voice, as Whisky-Jack swooped down to a small Poplar, and craned his neck in amazement at the sight he beheld. "By my Lonely Life!" he chuckled, "if here isn't the King of all Knaves sitting with his hands in the stocks. Great Rations! but you're a wise one; whose toes hurt now, Mister Mocker? Why doesn't that cat-faced Lynx help you out?"
"I offered to," declared Pisew, "but his temper is so vile I dare not touch him. He threatened to kill me--I'm afraid to go near him."
"Why don't you run to Black King for help, you stupid--you can't open that Trap."
"Wise Bird," almost sobbed Carcajou, in his gratitude, "this scheming rascal took advantage of my misfortune, and tried to make me promise to do something for him, or he would let François catch me."
"Pisew is not to be trusted--he is too much like a Man," asserted Jack. Turning to the Lynx, he exclaimed, angrily: "You go on the back-trail there, and if François comes, lead him off slowly; just keep in his sight--he'll follow you. I will get the Lieutenant out of this. Mind, if you play any tricks, or break the Oath of the Boundaries, the King will command Blue Wolf to break your back--he'll do it too. I'm off for help," he said to the prisoner; "just keep your courage up, old Carey;" and working his fan-like wings with exceeding diligence, he dove through the woods at a great rate toward the King's Burrow.
"I was only joking, dear friend Carcajou," said Lynx, fawningly, for he dreaded the anger of the other animals. "Don't say a word about it to the King; he might think I was in earnest."
"Traitor!" snarled Wolverine; "go back and watch for François."
"Don't say any more about it," pleaded Pisew, "and I'll watch, oh, so carefully, most loyal, true Lieutenant."
Whisky-Jack's shrill call from a tree startled the family of the Red Widow.
"Quick, Royal Son," she cried, "there's a danger signal. Listen: 'Hee-e-e-p, hee-e-ep, he-e-e-ep!' That means some one caught. Where are my Sons? All here but Stripes, Goodness!" She wrung her paws miserably, and in her eagerness rushed to the door. "What is it, Bringer of Evil News? Who's caught--not my Baby Cub?" she asked of Whisky-Jack.
"No, Good Dame. Would you believe it, the cleverest one in all the Boundaries, excepting your Son, is now keeping the jaws of a Trap apart with his own soft paws--it's Carcajou."
"What's to do?" cried Black Fox, joining his Mother.
"Carcajou is caught!" she answered, heaving a sigh of relief that it wasn't Cross-stripes.
Jay Bird explained the situation.
"Nobody but Muskwa can spring a Number Four Trap," asserted the King; "and he is holed up these two days--isn't he, Mother?"
"Yes," she assented. "And asleep by now. You will find him at the big Burrow that is in the fourth cut-bank from here up stream."
"The old Chap must get up, then," cried Black Fox, with emphasis, "for he is not in the deep frost-sleep yet. Here, Jack, run and bring Beaver to cut off the pole Carcajou's Trap is ringed to, and I'll go for Muskwa; if you see Rof, tell him to meet me at Bear's Burrow."
The King had a tremendous time with Muskwa. Bruin was sleepy and cranky. "Quick! wake up, Brother!" Black Fox shouted in his ear. The Bear never moved--simply snored.
The energetic visitor turned tail on, and proceeded to rake Bruin's ribs with his strong hind feet as a dog makes the gravel fly. Muskwa grunted and simply flicked his short, woolly ears. The King jumped on him, set up the long howl of the Kill in his very face, put his sharp teeth through one of the nerveless ears, and generally held a small riot over the sleeper. He never would have managed to wake Bear had not Blue Wolf arrived to help him.
Muskwa was for all the world like a maudlin, drunken old sailor. "All right, you Fellows," he said groggily, his eyes still closed, "I don't want any more Berries--eat 'em yourself."
"Not Berries!" howled Wolf; "Carcajou is in a Trap."
"Go 'way--don't believe it. Carcajou's an old Sweep!"
Blue Wolf's powerful voice rang the Chase Note in Muskwa's ear. It woke the big fellow sufficiently to enable him to take a side-hook sweep at the offender with his disengaged paw. The blow was a sleepy one, else it had cracked his tormentor's skull.
"He's coming all right," remarked the King, critically.
"By the Flavour of Meat, he is!" ejaculated Rof.
In the end they got Muskwa on his feet, with a little understanding in his stupor-clogged brain, and half-pushing, half-leading, conducted him to where Carcajou was sitting in the stocks. In his flight Whisky-Jack had met Mooswa, and he was there also. Beaver was chiselling away at the pole; for once loosened, even if they could not spring the Trap sufficiently to get Carcajou's paws out, between them they might manage to get him away and cached somewhere; anything was better than letting him fall into the Trapper's hands.
"Of all the wood I ever cut this is the worst," panted Umisk, resting for a minute. "It cramps my neck cutting down so close sideways. It is dry Tamarack, the slivers are all sticking in my tongue."
As Black Fox and Rof withdrew their paws from under Muskwa's arms, he keeled over lazily and went sound asleep in two seconds. "Give him a good lift with your hind-foot, Mooswa," commanded the King, sharply. "Of all the heavy-brained Animals I ever saw!"
"If we but had some of Man's fire," opined Jack, "we could wake him up quick enough by singeing a couple of my feathers under his nose."
Mooswa planted both hind-feet, bang! in Bear's ribs; Rof gave a deep bay in his face; Black King once more put his saw-like teeth through an ear; and by these gentle, persuasive methods Muskwa was wakened sufficiently to get on his feet. He swayed drunkenly. "Stop fighting, Cubs!" he growled, under the impression that he was being bothered by some of his own children.
"Get up and squeeze the springs of the Trap--Carcajou is caught! Here they are--put a paw on each--there! squeeze!" yelled Black Fox.
Just then Beaver finished cutting the pole, and it fell with a crash--the noise helped waken Muskwa.
"Slip the ring off the stub, Umisk, that's a good Chap," cried Wolverine. This done, he and the Trap clattered to the ground.
"Come on!" screamed Black Fox to Muskwa, as he and Rof shouldered him to the Trap. "Squeeze now!" the Fox shouted again, placing Bear's powerful paws on the springs.
"I'll squeeze," answered Bruin, petulantly; "but why don't you speak louder--say what you mean. You Fellows have all got colds--I can't hear you."
"Dead Eagles! but François will," remarked Jay.
"There, now, a little harder--use your strength, Muskwa!"
The Bear pressed his great weight on the springs; they slipped down, and the jaws slowly opened like the sides of a travelling-bag. With a cry of delight Carcajou pulled his bruised fingers out, and in gratitude rubbed his short little Coon-like head against Bruin's great cheek. "Good old Muskwa!" he cried joyfully; "I'll never forget this."
"Your fingers will be a long time sore, then," sneered Jay.
"Never--mind--little friend. It's all right; let me go--to sleep now, don't--don't bother;" and he flopped over like a bag of potatoes, sighed wearily once or twice, and started off with a monotonous, bubbling snore. "He's hopeless," moaned the King. "We'll never get him home."
"I saw François just like that once," chirped Whisky-Jack; "he had some medicine in a bottle, and the more of it he took the sleepier he got."
"How in the name of Many Birds shall we ever get him back to his hole?" asked Black Fox, perplexedly.
"I'll carry him," declared the Moose. "Here, you Fellows, roll him up on my horns;" and dropping to his knees Mooswa put the great, chair-like spread of his antlers down to the snow.
"Come, Pisew, give us a hand," commanded the King. Beaver, and Lynx, and Rof, and Black Fox shouldered and pushed at the huge black ball, and Mooswa kept edging his horn-cradle in under the mass, until finally Muskwa lay snugly in the hollow.
"Now all give a mighty push, and help me up!" snuffed the Moose. "All right," he added, staggering to his feet, and pointing his nose skyward, allowing the burdened antlers to lie along his withers.
"Ride with Muskwa, Jack," commanded the King, "and show Mooswa the old Sleeper's house. Branch out, the rest of you, and make the Many-trail; for many trails make few catches." Carcajou was sitting on his haunches, licking his aching paws. "How are you going to get home, Little Comrade?" he asked.
"I'll give him a lift," interposed Blue Wolf. "Clamber up, old Curiosity." They were a funny-looking party--quite like an ambulance train; Muskwa asleep on Mooswa's horns, and Carcajou astraddle of Wolf's strong back.