With Trapper Jim in the North Woods Part 14

"There he goes again," burst out Steve; "I tell you, fellows, we're going to have a peck of trouble with this here inquirin' mind of Toby's."

"G-g-go chase yourself!" blurted out the stuttering boy, indignantly.

"I'm only tryin' to g-g-get information at c-c-close quarters."

"And you'll get it, all right," chuckled Steve. "You'll be satisfied, I reckon; but think of us, what we'll have to stand. Just you let that close quarters racket die out, Toby Jucklin."

"Some of the animals are jet black," remarked the trapper, "and they fetch a better price than the striped skins."

"Glory be!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bandy-legs.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Steve.

"You don't mean to tell me they use the skins for furs?" Bandy-legs continued.

"Sure they do," replied Steve; "ain't that so, Uncle Jim?"

"They make splendid furs," was what the trapper remarked. "The striped ones are dyed, of course. And they have a way of removing any faint odor that happens to remain."

"Faint odor!" echoed Steve, sniffing the atmosphere. "I wonder if there ever is such a thing in connection with these awful beasts."

"That shows you haven't read up about them, Steve," remarked Owen. "Why, there are a whole lot of skunk farms all over the Northern States."

"You're fooling me, Owen," declared Steve, reproachfully.

"How about it, Uncle Jim; am I kidding him?" demanded Owen, turning toward the old trapper, who was enjoying all this talk immensely.

"Heaps of skunk farms, yes, siree," he replied, promptly. "They soon get to know the man who feeds them and give him no trouble. He's a peaceable little critter, and only when he gets excited does he go to extremes."

"Well, I want to give 'em all a wide berth," Steve a.s.serted. "And if I meet one in the woods I'm willing to let him have the whole path. I'd take off my hat and bow in the bargain, if I thought he wanted me to.

Because I've got a whole lot of respect for the skunk family. They're just immense!"

So they talked and jollied each other as they went on eating one of the "bulliest suppers" they had ever sat down to, as more than one of the boys loudly declared.

The dogs had been brought in and were given their share from the remains of the venison that had been cooked, the balance of the hind quarter having been hung out in the frosty air.

All of the boys had taken a decided fancy to the dogs, and in return the intelligent animals seemed to reciprocate this friendly feeling.

Accustomed to sharing the cabin with the trapper at night as his only companions during the long winter months, they did not take kindly to the new rule that made them sleep out in a kennel while the boys were present. And when allowed inside they hugged the fire in a way that told how much they appreciated its cheery warmth.

They were lying there later on in the night and Trapper Jim had just mentioned that it must be time for him to take the dogs out, when old Ajax lifted his head and growled. Immediately little yellow Don did the same.

"What ails 'em?" asked Steve, as the dogs got up and stood there, the hair along their necks and backs rising up.

"Oh, I reckon they scent some animal prowling around outside," remarked the trapper, making for the door.

"Good gracious! I hope now it ain't that same old skunk come back because he's changed his mind!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, glancing hastily around, as if to see where he could hide.

The trapper, however, seemed to know that there was no danger along those lines. He took down the bar, and, throwing open the door, stepped out.

As he did so there was a sudden vicious snarl that thrilled the boys, and then the dogs bounded out with a chorus of wild barks.

CHAPTER X.

THE TRAIL OF THE CLOG.

The excitement was tremendous for the time being, with the barking of the two dogs and the cries of the boys.

All of them had heard that savage snarl as Trapper Jim stepped out.

"Was it a bobcat?" demanded Steve, who had been wise enough to s.n.a.t.c.h up his gun before following the trapper out of the door.

"Just what it was," replied the other.

"Three to one he was at our meat!" exclaimed Max.

"You can see it swinging yet," declared Owen.

"That's right, son," the trapper admitted; he was hanging to it when I broke out so sudden-like. When he snarled like that I ducked some, because it ain't the nicest thing a-going to have a bobcat on your shoulders. But I saw him make a spring and land among the branches of the tree. Then he was gone, and the dogs they run out, givin' tongue."

"The moon's just climbin' in sight," said Steve, eagerly; "d'ye think I'd stand a chance to get a crack at him if I hurried along to where the dogs are barking like mad?"

He acted as though seriously contemplating such a bold move. The trapper laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You'd best stay just where you be, son," he said, quietly, but in a way Steve understood. "Only a foolish or reckless hunter'd try to get at lose quarters with a bobcat of nights. They scratch like fun, and there's always danger of blood poisoning from such wounds."

So Steve was forced to restrain his ardor. But he relinquished his plan with rather bad grace.

"I'll get you yet, old feller," he was heard to mutter, as they heard the wildcat emit a mocking, tantalizing cry at some little distance away.

"You see if I don't, now!"

And when Steve once set his mind upon accomplishing anything, he generally got there, for he was very persistent.

Trapper Jim, thinking that the dogs had had all the excitement necessary, and wishing to put a stop to their racket, blew a whistle he carried.

So well trained were the dogs that upon hearing the signal to return to their master they immediately stopped barking and a few minutes later Ajax showed up, quickly followed by Don.

"You chased him off, didn't you?" said the trapper, stooping down to pat his pets by turns.

The dogs each gave a single bark, as though to say "yes," and their wagging tails told how much they appreciated these few words of praise from their master.

"Will the cat come back again, do you think?" Owen asked.

"I reckon not," laughed Trapper Jim; "since he's found out we keep dogs around the camp. A bobcat hates dogs about as much as human beings do skunks. If you ever run across him again, Steve, it'll be somewhere else; p'r'aps up where you left the rest of your fine buck."

"Well, he didn't get our breakfast, anyway," remarked Bandy-legs, quite bold again, since all the danger seemed past.