found that, when muskrats travel beneath the frozen surface of the pond
in winter, they frequently rise and expel their breath against the ice.
Then, after this bubble of air has been purified, the muskrat sucks it
back into his lungs and proceeds on its journey, until compelled by
shortness of breath to do the same thing again.
They were told, also, that muskrats have a very noticeable odor of musk
about them, especially in early spring, which may have given them their
name, although the Indian name was musquash; and learned that muskrats
warn each other of danger by slapping the water with their tails, like
the beavers.
A round of the traps yielded eight prime pelts. When Bill had finished
with them, the journey was continued. He said he might easily trap many
more muskrats than he did, but he had no desire to exterminate them or
seriously decrease their numbers. He took as many as he believed he was
entitled to each season, and no more.
The next leg of their circuit led them into a dense hemlock forest,
where they found the trail of another lynx. Judged from the size of the
footprints, this animal was larger than the one whose tracks they had
crossed a short time before. The boys noticed that Bill was following
the new trail with keen interest.
“I believe that fellow is going to get mixed up with one of our traps,”
he prophesied.
“I guess we’ll have some fun, if he does,” said Ed.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” replied Bill, leading off into a group of small
evergreens into which the tracks disappeared.
Hardly had they worked their way into this tangle of forest growth when
a wild commotion took place some little distance ahead of them. The
trapper turned toward them, laughing.
“He’s here all right, and mad clear through!”
Hurrying to his side, the boys saw a powerful gray animal tugging
violently at the trap-chain and tumbling about over the ground.
Then it crouched, and they saw the ugly, broad face with its long
side-whiskers, and the ears tipped with black-pointed tufts of fur.
Snarling and spitting, the lynx sprang forward to the full extent of
the steel chain which connected the trap with a heavy log.
“I’ve an order to ship one of these fellows to a menagerie down
in Boston. What do you say to taking this one alive?” asked Bill,
smiling mischievously at his young companions, who stood aghast at the
proposition.
“Gee whiz!” exclaimed Ed, looking at him in amazement.
“How on earth can we do it?” asked George.
“It’s going to be something of a job, but we’ll tackle it, anyway,”
declared Bill, putting down the club and removing his pack and coat.
The lynx, as though endeavoring to frighten them, was making frantic
efforts to break its bonds. Finding itself unable to do so, it finally
squatted down behind the log, growling sullenly whenever they moved.
“Just let him tire himself out; it will make our job all the easier,”
said Bill.
He produced several pieces of buckskin from the pockets of his corduroy
coat, and two lengths of stout rope, and as many light chains from the
pack. Then he took the ax and cut and trimmed a long, straight sapling.
Joining the bits of buckskin, he made a slip-noose and fastened it to
the end of the pole.
“We’ve got to get this over his head, and then we’ll stretch him out
and tie him up,” he said, calmly.
Pole in hand, he made his way slowly toward the lynx, and it
immediately jumped at him. When it struck the ground, scarcely two feet
away, Bill made an attempt to shoot the noose over its head, but the
agile creature sprang aside. For some time these manœuvers continued,
and Bill was unable to get the loop over the head of the lynx. Once the
encircling loop fell about its neck, and he instantly pulled the circle
taut and snared one ear and half the face. Before he could stretch out
the powerful body, the lynx tore the noose free with one of its paws.
“He’s sure foxy!” laughed the trapper, pausing to rest a moment.
The lynx again crouched behind the log, and peered over at them with
savage eyes. It seemed to be resting and holding in reserve for the
next attack.
“We’ll mix him up a little, now,” said Bill. “You fellows get poles and
begin to poke at him in front, and I’ll sneak around behind him and try
to slip the noose over his head.”
Armed with long poles, the boys advanced and took part in the fray.
They made passes at the lynx, which instantly struck aside the
saplings and sprang savagely at its tormentors.
Meanwhile Bill had worked his way up behind the animal, and while it
fought the boys in front, he made several ineffectual attempts to snare
it. But the wily creature, having felt the tickle of the buckskin
noose, knew that the trapper was the enemy to be feared most, and it
was on its guard.
At last it made a mistake, and, with a yell of triumph, Bill shot the
noose over its head and drew it tight.
“We’ve got him now!” he cried.
The boys cheered enthusiastically as the lynx, coughing and snarling,
was pulled over on its back and straightened out with its free legs
clawing the air. Bill ordered the lads to hold the pole, and keep the
lynx prostrate until he inserted a gag between its jaws and tied its
feet. He warned them against giving any slack, and said he might be
seriously clawed should they make the slightest blunder.
Stretched out with one foot fast in the trap and the choking circle
of buckskin about its neck, the lynx was prevented from rising by the
boys, who pulled vigorously on the pole. All the while the lynx was
thrashing about madly in a useless struggle to free itself.
Working with lightning-like rapidity, Bill soon had the thick, muscular
legs tied and drawn securely together. Then, having cut a hardwood gag,
two inches thick and four or five inches long, he waited his chance,
and slipped it between the jaws of his snapping captive. Next he took a
piece of buckskin and passed it about the gag and around the head and
jaws of the helpless lynx.
Having rendered the creature harmless, Bill cut two long, heavy poles.
These he placed on the ground parallel to each other and about three
feet apart. Across them he lashed shorter poles, close together, to
form a platform.
Releasing the trap from its leg, Bill and the boys dragged their still
defiant prisoner to the rough stretcher, and soon had him securely
bound in place.
Then they shouldered the poles, and, carrying the captive between them,
they started for the cabin. The lynx was heavy and the country rough,
and before they had gone far the lads began to realize that they had a
hard job on their hands. But they stuck to it, and finally, with aching
shoulders, they arrived before the door of the little shack and set
down their burden with a sigh of relief.
“We’ll have to build a good, stout crate to ship him in, and,
meantime, we’ll leave ‘his royal highness’ tied up so he’ll do no
harm,” said Bill, opening the door.
Moze instantly rushed out and hurled himself upon the prostrate lynx
before any one could stop him. The trapper seized him by the neck and
pulled him off, else he would surely have killed the helpless animal,
which was entirely at his mercy.
“I’m afraid we’ll have our own troubles before we get that gray villain
off our hands,” laughed Bill.
XIV A LYNX MAKES TROUBLE
A day was spent building a substantial cage of heavy logs. With some
difficulty the lynx was placed inside it, to wait until Bill could
borrow a team and haul it to the railroad.
Meantime a three-inch fall of snow had made ideal tracking conditions.
As the boys were anxious to follow the fresh trails of the various
animals, they determined to take advantage of it, and decided to remain
at home while Bill made the round of his traps. They told him they
would travel about in the neighborhood of the cabin and see what they
could find. The trapper gave them permission to do so, and carefully
explained the lay of the land near-by.
When he had gone the boys started out, accompanied by Moze. They
carried their rifles, a supply of matches, and a substantial lunch.
Choosing a prominent landmark for their goal, they trained their
compass on it, and entered the inviting confines of the great white
wilderness.
They had not gone far when they came to three piles of grouse feathers
beneath a towering hemlock. They stooped down to examine them in the
hope of finding a clue to the murderer. There were no footprints near
these mute evidences of crime; but George discovered some faint,
indistinct tracings across the snow. He and Ed studied them for some
time, at a loss to know what had made them.
“I have it!” cried Ed, straightening.
“Have what?” queried George, doubtfully.
“Why, those marks have been made by wing-beats. The murderer is some
pirate of the air--a hawk, or near relative of ‘Old Snowball,’ I’ll
bet!”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed George, looking up into the tree-tops,
as though he expected to see the bold marauder still about.
Just then they heard the noisy commotion of a flock of jays, and they
instantly made their way in that direction. They recalled the advice
of Ben regarding these birds, and stole noiselessly toward the calls,
confident of finding game at the end of their stalk. The jays did not
appear to be moving, for their cries came continually from the same
place. Stealing cautiously along from tree to tree, the lads at length
came in sight of them. Standing motionless, they saw the jays flying
angrily about some large, dark-colored object in the top of a tree.
“Look! It has ears!” whispered Ed, excitedly, as an erect tuft appeared
on each side of the broad, flat head.
“It’s an owl of some sort; and see--it’s holding a grouse,” said George.
The jays made many vicious swoops; but the owl always turned its head
in time to meet them, and the boys distinctly heard the angry snap of
its powerful beak.
“Well, here goes for the murderer!” declared Ed, raising his rifle. “If
he had taken one grouse we might have let him off; but three are too
many for one meal. He’s a ‘tenderfoot’ and a ‘game-hog,’ and, according
to Ben, either charge is enough.”
But the owl evidently had other ideas. Just as Ed pulled the trigger
it flew, and his bullet cut the branch directly behind where it had
perched. It sailed swiftly away among the trees, with the jays in close
pursuit.
“Shoot first and talk afterward,” cautioned George, laughing at the
discomfiture of his friend.
Moze was baying somewhere off to the right of them. They left the
owl to the tender mercies of the jays, and turned toward the hound.
They went down into a rocky ravine, across a little brook, and up a
hill. Then they heard Moze coming up the other side. Hiding themselves
in some bushes, they waited for the appearance of the hound and his
quarry, which he seemed to be driving directly toward them. His voice
rang out clearly in the frosty air, and the blood of the young hunters
tingled. What he was running they did not know, and they waited in
suspense.
Suddenly a red streak flashed across the opening in front of them
and immediately disappeared into the brush again. The boys grinned
sheepishly at each other.
Moze followed a minute later, and, glancing at them from the corner of
his eye, he raced on in pursuit of the fox.
“Say, we’re getting pretty bad,” declared Ed, lowering his rifle.
“That’s all right, I didn’t guarantee to hit a streak of lightning,”
replied George, looking after the fox. “It’s no use waiting for Moze;
he’ll be on the other side of the world by night if he keeps up that
pace.”
They resumed their journey through the woods, and near the border of a
small swale they jumped a “snowshoe rabbit.”
“There goes just the fellow we have been looking for!” shouted Ed, as
the nimble hare bounded away.
“Let’s follow him up,” urged George.
“No, thanks; no more swamps for me!” said Ed, shaking his head.
“Oh, come on; this is a tiny one--you can almost see across it. We
can’t possibly get lost,” persisted George, eager to follow the hare.
He finally won Ed’s consent, and together they plunged into the swale.
This time they prudently chopped small squares from the tree-trunks to
serve as sign-posts when they wished to return.
“We’ll never come up with him. Just look at those leaps,” said Ed,
hopelessly.
“He may get tired, and perhaps he’ll squat down somewhere,” suggested
George.
Much to their satisfaction, they quickly crossed the narrow bit of
marshy forest and came out at a sunny slope along its border. Here
George spied the hare squatting under a low bush. Taking careful aim,
he killed it with the first shot.
They were delighted with their trophy, and George tucked it into the
pocket of his coat with much pride. They had no trouble retracing their
course, and, once out of the swamp, sat down to enjoy their lunch.
They had seen or heard nothing of Moze, and George laughingly declared
he would soon be around the earth on the same trail.
After lunch it began to grow cold, and they decided to return to the
cabin and await Bill with his spoils from the traps. The lads followed
their back-trail, and were soon in sight of the little log shelter.
They went at once to the cage containing the lynx, and when they
reached it, drew back in alarm. The savage inmate had chewed and clawed
two bars of his prison until they were all but in half. The merest push
or jump of the lynx would snap them asunder and gain him his freedom.
“Great Scott! What shall we do?” cried Ed.
“Don’t go in front of it,” advised George. “If you do, he’ll jump; and
then, out he comes! We’ll sneak up from the side, throw our coats over
the front of the cage and run into the cabin with it.”
“Hurry! He’s getting ready to spring!” warned Ed.
Creeping up to it from the sides, the boys each grabbed an end of the
heavy crate. Pulling and tugging with all their might, they managed to
drag it into the cabin.
Hardly were they over the threshold, with the door securely fastened
behind them, when the lynx did the very thing they feared it might
do--it jumped against the front of the cage! There was an ugly snarl,
a snapping of weakened logs, and the released captive bounded into the
center of the room and faced them.
The boys made record time out through the doorway. Once outside, they
slammed the door shut and stood looking at each other with troubled
faces.
“The window, quick!” screamed Ed.
George immediately ran to it and hung his coat over the outside, in
the hope of preventing the lynx from jumping through the sash. Then
he hastily rejoined his friend, who stood braced against the door,
anxiously awaiting some sound from within.
“Well, this is a pretty mess!” he declared, when George came up.
“Yes, but it’s lucky we got here when we did,” said George.
“Maybe not so lucky as we imagine. I’ve an idea there’s going to be
considerable of a ‘rough-house’ before things become settled. Besides,
there are plenty of lynxes in the woods, and perhaps it might have been
better to have killed this one when he jumped from the crate.”
“But he doesn’t belong to us,” George reminded him, “and you know the
trouble Bill took to capture him. I’m sure he wouldn’t thank us for
shooting it in his absence.”
So far the lynx had remained passive, and the boys were at a loss
to know just what it was doing. At last curiosity got the better of
them, and Ed tiptoed to the window and peered in. With a startled yell
he jumped away, stumbled, and fell in a heap. He had gazed directly
into the snarling face of the lynx, which was crouched on the narrow
window-sill.
Luckily, the animal was as much surprised and frightened as the boy,
and instead of crashing through the glass it sprang away from it.
Then pandemonium broke loose, and by the noise that came from inside
the boys knew the lynx was making sad havoc of the few furnishings.
Pans clattered and clanged to the floor; the table went over with a
bang; and in dismay they heard various pieces of crockery tumble from
the shelves as the lynx leaped wildly about the little room. At one
time he must have alighted on the hot stove, and he gave evidence of
the fact by a scream of pain. Then he crashed against the door, and the
boys threw their combined weight against it. Then he quieted down. Ed
and George were anxious to see the damage he had done, but dared not
peer through the window, lest they invite an attack.
It grew bitterly cold, and they were obliged to stamp their feet and
swing their arms to keep their blood circulating. Several long hours
dragged by, and the short winter day came to a close. Still they kept
vigil on the outside of the cabin. Again and again the lynx stirred
things up, and once their hearts almost stopped, when they heard him
strike against the window. It was evidently a glancing blow, for it did
not break the glass, and the lads breathed a sigh of relief.
“I wish Bill would show up,” said Ed, swinging his arms and blowing on
his benumbed finger-tips.
“Say, suppose he doesn’t come until to-morrow; you know he said he
sometimes stayed overnight at a lean-to.”
“Gee whiz, I never thought of that!” cried Ed, in alarm. “We can’t
spend the night out here without freezing, and we can’t go inside
without killing the lynx! We’re in a bad fix anyway you look at it.”
As darkness gradually settled over the silent white forest the hearts
of the boys became heavy. With the fading of daylight the imprisoned
lynx became more active, and once more wild riot raged within the
dark room. The temperature dropped steadily, and the shivering young
guards were at a loss to know what to do. Even if they decided to
take possession of the cabin by killing its dangerous occupant, their
chances of doing so were now poor.
“We’ve got to do something--I’m actually freezing to death; and,
besides, it seems ridiculous to be turned out of our own home by a
great big bully of a cat,” said Ed, through chattering teeth.
“It is pretty tough; but what are we going to do?” asked George. “We
haven’t even a lantern, and it’s no place in there to go poking around
with a flickering little match.”
Just then they heard the crunch of footsteps on the dry snow, and a
moment later Bill stood beside them, a big bundle of furs strapped to
his back.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired, anxiously. “I missed the light, and
was afraid something must be wrong. Thought maybe you were lost again.
Come in. What on earth are you shivering out here for?” And he started
to open the door.
“Wait!” cried Ed, excitedly grasping him by the arm.
“Hold on!” warned George, barring his way.
“What in blazes--” began the bewildered trapper; but the boys
interrupted him with a hurried recital of facts.
A council of war was immediately held, and Bill was forced to admit
that things looked bad. He said he had little hope of retaking the lynx
alive, and he seemed much cast down at the idea of killing it.
Then he unslung his pack and drew a keen-bladed ax from it. He made
known his intention of entering the cabin, and told the boys, who were
eager to accompany him, that they would be in the way and might get
hurt. Bill eased their minds by promising to call them if he got into
serious trouble.
They opened the door just wide enough for the trapper to squeeze
through. When he had entered, they slammed it shut and waited nervously
for sounds of the fierce battle they felt sure would immediately begin.
They heard Bill strike a match, and for a second a bright flicker of
light showed through the cracks in the door. Then it passed, and all
was dark. The lynx began growling fiercely as Bill moved about the room
in search of the lantern. At last a steady, bright glare lighted up the
interior of the cabin, and they knew he had found it.
Instantly the battle started, and, judging by the noise of combat, the
listeners believed it was a deadly one. They heard the lynx spring
times without number, and each time they heard Bill jump out of its
way. He was no doubt trying to stun it with the ax, so that he could
again take it alive.
Unable to restrain their impatient curiosity longer, the lads made
their way to the window. Cautiously they rose on tiptoe and peeped into
the cabin. They saw Bill partly crouched, with the ax in his hands. One
sleeve of his hunting-shirt was ripped and torn, where the sharp claws
of the lynx had fastened in it. Following the fierce, steady gaze of
the trapper, the boys saw the lynx squatting behind an overturned stool.
It had made a sad wreck of the place. All about lay the results of
its vengeance. Pots and pans were scattered in wild disorder over the
floor, the table had been overturned on top of its contents, and even
the personal belongings of the rightful occupants had been ripped from
their places and strewn about promiscuously.
Bill slowly approached the crouching lynx, and the boys heard it growl
like a big, angry cat. Cautiously the trapper advanced, and they saw
him turn the ax in his hand, as though to strike with the blunt end.
[Illustration: CAUTIOUSLY THE TRAPPER ADVANCED]
Suddenly the lynx sprang at him, and he stepped aside and swung his
weapon, but missed. Landing in the center of the room with all four
feet beneath it, the snarling creature instantly rebounded, and Bill
had barely time to whirl and face the attack. He knocked the determined
animal from him with a powerful blow of his ax. It slunk back into a
corner, apparently unhurt, and again crouched, with fangs exposed and
eyes blazing.
Then something unexpected happened, as a new combatant took a hand in
the fray. The door suddenly swung in, and Moze rushed into the room and
jumped for the throat of the lynx. He had arrived home from his long
chase, and had heard the savage snarls inside the cabin, and, entering,
had bounded joyously into the fight.
As the surprised trapper ran to close the door the hound and its
adversary came together; Bill, unable to use his ax for fear of killing
Moze, hopped out of the way of the fighters.
The boys, proud of the courage displayed by Moze, cheered him on.
The two powerful animals were well matched, and the battle was a hard
one. They fought all over the room, first one gaining the advantage,
then the other. Gouging, snapping, clawing, and snarling, they kept
on mauling each other. Once the lynx got Moze beneath it, and would
no doubt have speedily ended his career had not Bill aimed a savage
kick at its ribs. His action diverted the animal’s attention for an
instant and gave the hound a chance to regain his feet. Both combatants
were torn and bleeding. Again and again the trapper sought to deal the
lynx a fatal blow with the sharp edge of the ax, but Moze was always
directly in the way.
At last they drew apart for a moment, and Bill seized the opportunity
and rushed upon the great snarling cat with his ax raised. He was
unwilling to see Moze further punished in the terrific fighting, and he
determined to end it and save his faithful old hound.
When he came within a few feet of it, the lynx jumped directly at his
throat. This time, however, Bill did not miss, and his powerful blow
buried the blade of the ax deep in the brain of the savage cat, which
crashed to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Then the shaking, half-frozen boys rushed in and ran to Moze as he
stretched out close to the stove to lick a score of painful wounds.
“Well, old boy, he came near doing you,” said Bill, tenderly, as he
knelt to examine the injuries of the brave old fighter.
“Wouldn’t there have been fun if we had gone in before you arrived,”
laughed Ed, as he huddled over the stove, trying to thaw out.
“Fun and scratches, likely,” laughed Bill. “These big lynxes are just
about as mean a proposition as roams the woods--that is, when you get
them cornered for a fight.”
“It’s too bad you were obliged to kill him after all the work of taking
him alive,” said Ed, as he stooped down and ran his fingers through the
long, soft fur.
“Well, it couldn’t be helped. You see, there are many more lynxes to
be had, but there is only one Moze. One or the other had to go, and I
guess we know whose side to fight on. Don’t we, ‘old spit-fire’?” and
Bill patted Moze affectionately.
By the thumping of his tail on the floor, the boys knew the hound
understood this compliment to his valor, and was well content with the
way things had turned out.
XV BILL CAPTURES A PRIZE
The boys had been with Bill for some weeks when George took out his
diary. He was obliged to count back to learn the exact date; and when
he had done so, he uttered a long whistle of astonishment.
“What is the matter?” inquired Ed.
“Why, we are due at Ben’s the day after to-morrow, and, by ginger, the
day after that will be Christmas!”