Northern Diamonds Part 21

He had trouble in getting hold of the last of the cubs. Twice he winced with pain as the animal bit him, but at last he hauled it into view. It was a little larger than the others; it scratched and bit like a fury, and nearly broke away before they got it into the cage.

The boys gathered round and gloated over their prizes. With their glossy jet coats, bushy tails, p.r.i.c.k-eared faces, and comical air of intense intelligence, the cubs were beautiful little creatures; but they were all in a desperate panic, and huddled together in the farthest corner of the cage.

"If we can only get them home in good condition they should be worth fifteen thousand," said Horace. "But I'm much afraid they won't live unless we can get the mother to travel with them. But now that we have the cubs it should be rather easy to catch her, and maybe the father, too."

They set the cage back into the hollow made by the ruined burrow, and laid spruce branches over it so that it was well hidden. Then they wrapped the jaws of the trap with strips of cloth so that they would not cut the fox's skin, and set it directly in front of the cage.

Finally they scattered dead leaves over the trap. The cubs themselves would act as bait.

"A fox never deserts her young," Horace said. "She's sure to come back to-night, probably along with her mate, to carry off the cubs, and we've a good chance to catch one or both of them."

It seemed dangerous to go away and leave that precious cageful of little foxes at the mercy, perhaps, of the beaver trappers; perhaps prowling lynxes or wolves. However, the boys had to take the risk. As to the trappers, they had seen nothing of them for so long that they had little fear of them.

They went back to camp and tried to pa.s.s the time; but they could talk of nothing except black foxes. Fred conceived the idea of using their stock to start a breeding establishment of their own, and Macgregor was elaborating the plan, when suddenly he stopped with a frown.

"Is it so certain that the parents of those cubs are black?" he asked.

"I've heard that black foxes are an accident, a sport, and that the mother or father is very often red."

"That's something that naturalists have never settled," replied Horace.

"Some think that the black fox is a distinct strain, others that it's merely a 'sport,' as you say. However, when all the cubs in the litter are pure black, I think it's safe to a.s.sume that the parents are black also."

It was scarcely daylight the next morning before the boys were hurrying along the blazed trail again. Shaking with suppressed excitement, they approached the ravine of the foxes. When they came in sight of the den and the cage their antic.i.p.ation was succeeded by bitter disappointment.

The trap was undisturbed. Nothing had been caught. The cubs were still in the cage, as frightened as ever.

But they found that one at least of the old foxes had visited the place, for the dry leaves were disturbed; there were marks of sharp teeth on the willows of the cage, and inside the cage were the tails of a couple of wood mice. Unable to get her cubs out of the cage, the mother had brought them food.

It seemed too bad to take advantage of her mother love, but as Horace remarked, all they desired was to restore her to her family; once on the fox ranch, she would be treated like a queen.

They put the cage farther back and piled rocks round it, so that it could be approached only by one narrow path. In the path they placed the trap, and again covered it carefully with leaves.

The cubs had to be left for another night, and the boys had another hard day of waiting. None of them had the heart to try to prospect.

Macgregor went after ducks with the shotgun; the others lounged about, and killed time as best they could. They all went to bed early, and before sunrise again started for the den.

It was fully light when they came to the hill over the ravine, and as they sighted the den, a cry of excitement broke from all three of them at once.

From where they stood they could see the cage, and the crouching form of a black animal beside it, evidently in the trap. And over the beast with the dark fur stood a man in a buckskin jacket, with a club raised to strike.

CHAPTER XIII

Fred and Mac, who were carrying the guns, fired wildly at the man at the trap; they took no aim, for their only purpose was to startle him and to keep him from killing the fox. When the shots rang out, the man straightened up, saw the boys rushing down the hill toward him, and dropped his club. Stepping back, he picked up his rifle, and as they dashed up, held it ready to shoot.

Fred gave a whoop when he saw that the animal in the trap was really a black fox; moreover, it was the mother fox. Her black coat was glossy and spotless.

Horace turned to the man. "Let that fox alone!" he cried. "That's our fox!"

"Yours? It's my fox!" retorted the man angrily. "Why, that's my trap!"

"I don't believe it; we found it in the woods. Anyway, you can have the trap if you like, but the fox is certainly ours. We've been after her for some time."

"Me and my pardners have been after this fox all winter," declared the trapper. "Now that we've got her we 're going to keep her--you can bet on that."

He made a movement toward the fox.

"None of that!" cried Mac, sharply, and snapped a fresh cartridge into the rifle chamber.

"You would, would you?" cried the trapper, and instantly covered Peter with his gun. Fred had reloaded the shotgun, and he covered the man in his turn.

So for a moment they all stood at a deadlock.

"Put down your guns!" said Horace. "A fox pelt isn't worth killing a man for, and this pelt's no good, anyway. It's too late in the season.

We're going to take this fox away with us alive. Stick to your beavers, for you can't steal this animal from us--and you can bet on that!" he added, with great emphasis.

"You might shoot one of us, but you'd have a hole in you the next minute," said Mac. "You'd better drop it, now, and get out!"

The trapper glared at them with a face as savage as a wildcat's. For a second Fred really expected him to shoot. Then, with a muttered curse, the man lowered his gun.

"You pups won't bark so loud when I come back!" he snarled. Then he turned, and started away at a rapid pace.

"Bluffed!" Fred exclaimed, trembling now that the strain was over.

"He's gone for the rest of his gang!" Mac cried. "Quick, we've got to get out of here!"

"Yes, and far away, too," said Horace, "now that we've caught the mother fox. We should never have got the male, anyway. Let's get this beauty into her box."

The black fox was indeed a beauty, but there was no time to admire her.

Snarling viciously, she laid back her ears and showed her white teeth.

Her hind leg was in the trap, but did not appear to have been injured by the padded jaws.

Horace cut two strong forked sticks, with which the boys pinned her down by the neck and hips. Fred opened the jaws of the trap; Mac picked the fox up firmly by the back of her neck, and in spite of her frantic struggles, thrust her into the cage.

Horace and Mac then seized the box, one at either end, and started toward the river; Fred carried the guns and kept a sharp lookout in front. The cage of foxes was not heavy, but it was so clumsy that the boys had hard work carrying it over the rough ground. After stumbling for a few rods, they cut a long pole and slipped it through the handles in the ends of the cage. After that they made somewhat better progress, although even then they could not travel at a very rapid pace.

"If those fellows have a canoe," panted Mac, "they'll be down the river before we can get to camp!"

"You may be sure they'll do their best," said Horace. "These foxes are probably worth ten times their winter catch. We'll have to break camp instantly and make for home as fast as we can."

They went plunging along through the thickets, and up and down the rocky hills; it was well that the cage was strong.

After more than an hour of this arduous tramping they heard the rush of the river. "We'd best scout a little way ahead before we go any farther," Horace declared.

They set down the cage, crept forward to the river and reconnoitered the bank. Their canoe was where they had left it, concealed behind a cedar thicket, and no other canoe was in sight up or down the river.

Horace swept the sh.o.r.e with the field-gla.s.s.

"Nothing in sight," he reported. "We may have time to pack our outfit and get off, after all. Possibly those fellows haven't a canoe."

They quickly launched the canoe, and put the cage of black foxes amidships; Fred sat behind it in order to hold it steady. Horace took the stern paddle, and Peter the bow.