POACHERS
The behavior of the deer in the yard had puzzled Upton not a little. He
could evolve no theory to account for it. Why at this season of the year
should those two does have appeared so terror stricken at his approach,
and why should the buck have been in such an ugly mood? From all
accounts he had read, and from what Pat had said, he had had good
grounds for expecting the animals to be fairly tame. He put the matter
up to Pat as they tramped homeward, but his reply was evasive and
unsatisfactory. In fact, the big fellow was not inclined to talk. He
appeared to have something on his mind, and strode along with a black
scowl darkening his usually good-humored face. Once Walter thought he
detected a slight shake of his head at Sparrer as the latter started to
say something. He was sure of it when the latter abruptly changed the
subject.
Pat set a stiff pace. He seemed in a hurry to get back to the cabin. As
he opened the cabin door and looked in a flash of what looked to Upton
very much like relief crossed his face as he saw that it was empty, it
being too early for Alec to have returned. This puzzled Walter more than
ever, but he held his tongue and forbore to ask questions. He felt sure
that in his own good time Pat would unburden himself. The latter at once
went to work on the broken shoe, replacing the twine with a rawhide
thong made pliable by soaking in water. This would contract in drying
and the broken frame would be stronger than ever.
He had just finished the job when Alec came in with two marten. "Any
signs of our friends, the enemy?" asked Pat whimsically.
Alec shook his head. "No one has been near the traps," he replied. "I
dinna think they will dare come so near the cabin."
"You've got another guess coming, Alec," retorted Pat. "The murthering
thaves killed two deer within a mile of here yesterday."
"What!" exclaimed Walter and Hal in unison, while Alec suspended his
skinning knife in mid air and shot a keen glance at Pat.
"It's a fact," Pat went on. "Sparrer will tell you so."
Sparrer nodded in confirmation of Pat's surprising statement.
"But we didn't hear any guns," protested Hal.
"No," replied Pat, "for the very good reason that no guns were fired.
They were not hunting; they were butchering." Then he graphically
described for Alec's benefit Upton's experience with the buck that
morning, and the story lost nothing in the telling. "Walt," he
continued, "knows enough about deer to realize that the deer he saw did
not behave as he expected they would, and he's been puzzling over it
ever since. I'll tell you the reason. They've been hunted and harried in
that yard till their nerves are on the jump so that they will run from
their own shadows, all but the buck, and I guess now after his scrap
with the snow-shoe he will be as bad as the does. As it was he was
simply fighting mad, knowing their helplessness outside the yard.
Ordinarily he would have simply trotted off quietly with the does. But
they were hunted yesterday to a point where the old fellow was
desperate, and the proof of it is what Sparrer and I found."
"What was it?" demanded Walter eagerly.
"We found where a fawn and a doe had been driven into the deep snow and
butchered with a knife," replied Pat. "The story was plain enough for
any one who can read signs. It was no trick at all for those bloody
poachers on snow-shoes to run them down and drive them into the snow.
After that no gun was needed. Besides, a gun is too noisy for thieves
and lawbreakers. Walt didn't tell you what he saw yesterday. Fire away,
Walt, and tell 'em."
Upton told briefly what he had seen on the peak by the pass and his
reasons for telling only Pat. Alec's face hardened as he listened and a
steely glint crept into his eyes. When Walter had finished Pat
continued.
"You fellows wondered why I was so keen on getting back to the cabin. It
was because I don't believe it is safe to leave it unguarded. As long as
the snow was soft those thieves kept away from the Hollow, but with
this crust to leave no tracks they've come down here, and they've been
watching us. They know how many of us are here and are watching our
movements. They'd raid the cabin in a minute if they saw the chance. But
as long as anybody is here they'll keep out of sight. Hereafter we'll
leave a guard when we go out. To-morrow Alec and I will start before
daybreak to look for those fellows and leave you youngsters to amuse
yourselves. I have an idea that their camp isn't so far away as Alec
thought it was. Now we'll have dinner, and this afternoon Alec and I
will look over a couple of the short lines, one of you can keep guard
here and the other two can go with us or do anything else you please."
Upton insisted that he should keep guard, Hal decided to go with Alec,
and Sparrer with a little hesitancy confessed that he would like to hunt
rabbits. The experience of Christmas morning had whetted his taste for
hunting and following a trap line seemed tame sport in comparison. He
was eager to try his luck alone, and when Walter offered the loan of his
rifle his happiness was complete. When the others had departed he
shouldered the rifle and at Upton's suggestion started to follow the
course of the brook up to the beaver ponds so as to see the houses and
dams and then go on to the swamp at the head of the ponds where Spud Ely
had found the rabbit tracks which had ultimately led to his finding of
Alec Smith the fall before.
It did not take him long to reach the first or big dam. It was difficult
for this boy of the city to believe that this could be the work of
animals and not men, and had he not seen some of the beaver cuttings in
the Bronx Park at home he would have been inclined to think that Upton
had been stuffing him when he told him about the dam. There was little
opportunity to examine the construction, because it was covered with
snow and was in effect a long solid wall of glistening white. Beyond
stretched the smooth even surface of the big pond, with nothing to break
the dead level of it but three white mounds over toward the north shore.
These he knew must be the houses of which Upton had told him, and he at
once decided to go over and investigate them.
As he approached them he discovered several small mounds around two of
the houses, but thought nothing of this until he noticed that the snow
around them had been recently disturbed, and that the mounds themselves
were not crusted. Instantly every sense which his Scout training had
developed was aroused. Here was something peculiar, and to be
investigated. Could this be the work of the beavers? He would find out.
Rapidly he dug into one of the mounds and presently disclosed evergreen
boughs over which the snow had been heaped. Could this be some work of
the strange little animals of which he had never heard? He lifted one of
the boughs and looked at the butt. It had been _broken_ off and not cut
by teeth. Moreover, it was freshly broken. He examined another with the
same result. Underneath was a larger one, and this had been cut with an
axe.
Sparrer straightened and looked keenly in all directions. A sudden
suspicion was rapidly crystallizing into conviction in his mind. This
was the work of man. What did it mean? So far as he could see there was
not another living thing in all that great white waste. The vast
silence was oppressive. Involuntarily he shivered. For the first time
the loneliness of complete solitude gripped him, the more so that
hitherto in all his life he had never known what it was to be absolutely
alone. From babyhood he had been surrounded night and day by human
beings, many of them evil, but human nevertheless. Even since he had
entered the woods he had not been out of speaking distance of one or
more of his companions until now. An overwhelming sense of littleness
and insignificance swept over him. There was something sinister and
threatening in the towering hills. He had the feeling that unseen eyes
were watching him and it made his flesh creep. He knew it was, must be,
only a feeling, yet he could not rid himself of it. It is a feeling
which every one who is alone for the first time in the wilderness
experiences.
Then he shook himself. "Youse is sure losing yer goat, Sparrer," he
muttered. "Buck up!"
With this he resumed his investigations. When the last of the boughs had
been removed he found a hole in the ice about a foot and a half wide and
a trifle longer. Along one end and both sides small dead sticks had been
driven into the mud and close to the edges of the hole. These were about
four inches apart and formed a little pen with one end open. Close to
one side and projecting beyond the pen through the open end was a long
freshly cut green poplar stick fastened about two inches above the
bottom. The water was shallow and presently he made out a steel trap
dimly outlined well inside the pen quite close to the poplar stick, the
chain fastened to one of the pen stakes.
It was all perfectly clear now to even such a novice as Sparrer. It was
a set for beaver. He knew enough about the animals to know that their
favorite food is poplar bark. The green poplar stick was bait. It seemed
queer to think of a stick of wood as bait, but this is what it was, and
nothing else. He saw that it was securely fastened at the butt end in a
corner of the pen and was staked down near the opening so that there
could be no cross movement. It could not be pulled out. The only way for
a hungry beaver to get it would be to enter the pen and cut it off and
in doing this he could hardly fail of stepping in the trap. Then he
would drown miserably under the ice. The part left sticking out beyond
the pen was by way of a teaser. It would be the first part touched by
the animal and would undoubtedly be cut off close to the pen. Having had
a taste of the fresh green bark and no harm having come from it the
animal would unsuspectingly enter the pen to secure the remainder,
whereas with the bait wholly within the pen in the first place the
animal would be suspicious and wary of entering. It was all very simple,
clever and diabolical.
Sparrer's first impulse was to spring the trap, but on second thought he
decided to leave it alone. It might well be that his discovery were
better unknown. His life in New York streets had taught him that it is
possible to know too much; that some things are better forgotten as soon
as learned. He recalled what had been said about the illegality of
trapping beaver. If Pat and Alec were doing a little quiet poaching it
was none of his business. They would not thank him for interfering. Of
course the trap must be theirs. There was no one else trapping in the
Hollow. The poachers there had been so much talk about were working
miles beyond the Hollow, on the long line. He remembered now that
neither Pat nor Alec had once suggested a trip up this way. Good reason.
They wanted to avoid any embarrassing questions about those queer little
mounds, for he knew now that each one covered a trap-pan. The boughs and
the snow were to keep the holes from freezing over. He counted the
mounds. There were three at one house and four at the other.
"Youse better cover this up and make yer get-away while the going's
good," he muttered as he replaced the boughs and packed the snow over
them until the mound was as nearly as he had found it as it was possible
to make it. Then he made a hasty examination of the houses. The snow was
melted on the tops of the two around which the traps were set, sure sign
that they were inhabited. This was caused by the warm air from the
interior escaping through the air holes which are always left in the top
of a beaver house. The third was solidly crusted over, a reasonably sure
indication that it was abandoned.
Having satisfied his curiosity Sparrer started back to the dam and
followed it to the woods on the farther shore. He had intended to go
straight across the pond to the second dam, but his discovery of the
traps had aroused his sense of caution and he decided that it would be
better to keep to the woods. On the broad white expanse of the pond he
would be altogether too conspicuous should it happen that curious eyes
were watching. As he skirted the shore of the pond through the brush his
thoughts were so busy with his discovery that for the time being he
quite forgot to keep an eye out for rabbit signs. The illegality of this
attempt to catch beaver in a closed season did not impress him at first.
He had had nothing to do with game and game laws. They were entirely
outside his range of experience. In fact, he failed utterly to grasp the
purpose back of the laws and like a great many others he regarded them
as a restriction of individual liberty, and a violation as of no very
great moment. They were to him very much as the "keep off the grass"
signs in the city park.
So it was no shock to the boy to think that his new idol, Pat, should
be breaking a law for which he could see no reason. But what did give
him a shock was the method employed. This outraged his strong sense of
fair play. "It's hitting 'em below de belt. Dey ain't got a chance in de
world," he kept saying over and over to himself. "Dey finds de food
right by dere houses under de ice where dey ain't looking for no foul
blow, and dey helps demselves and gits a knockout widout a show." He
could overlook the breaking of the law because it held no meaning for
him, but it was hard to reconcile this flagrant outrage on fairness with
what he knew of Pat.
"Maybe Alec's doing it on de side and Pat don't know nothin' about it,"
he thought, and with this comforting reflection he felt better. As he
tramped on his thoughts grew clearer. He recalled Alec's strong
assertion that he was for protecting beaver. If Alec had been sincere
this eliminated him, and Pat had not been away from the cabin unattended
since they arrived. Moreover the traps had been set since the last snow,
and that fact effectually disposed of both Pat and Alec. As he realized
this Sparrer gave vent to a low whistle. "It's some other mugs, as sure
as shootin'!" he exclaimed. "Bet it's de same guys dat killed de deer,
and Pat an' Alec don't know nothin' about it." He paused, undecided
whether to go back or keep on, but a moment's reflection decided him.
Pat and Alec were out on the trap lines, and would not be back until
dark. He would keep on and have his hunt. The news would keep until he
got back.
But this new-born certainty that there were others in the Hollow gave
him an uncomfortable feeling and he decided that he would keep as much
away from the open as possible. For this reason as he approached the
second dam he was content to look at it from the screen of brush. It was
similar to the first, but smaller, and there were no houses in the pond
above. The third dam was but a short distance above and this was the
smallest of the three. Beyond this lay the swamp where he hoped to find
the rabbits. That his nerves were jumpy he realized by the way he
started at every unexpected sound. The grinding of one tree against
another, even an unusually loud clack of his own snow-shoes, made his
heart jump. Once he could have sworn that he heard a stick snap behind
him, and for a full two minutes he stood listening. But he heard nothing
further and nothing moved within his range of vision. Charging it up to
an overwrought imagination and chiding himself for a silly chump he
moved on.
Presently he discovered fresh rabbit sign, and this drove everything
else out of his head. Slowly he moved forward, his rifle cocked and
ready. Profiting by his experience with Pat the day before he scanned
every little irregularity in the surface of the snow with suspicious
eyes. Presently he discovered a little mound ahead of him and a bit to
one side of the path he was following. It seemed to Sparrer that it was
if anything a trifle whiter than the surrounding snow. Study it as he
would, to his untrained eyes it bore no resemblance to an animal. But
presently he noticed two dark spots, and it flashed over him that they
were eyes, intently watching him. Slowly he started to raise his rifle,
but at the first movement the white mound dissolved into a long legged
animal which bounded behind a stump and was gone before he could get his
gun to his shoulder.
Disappointed, but resolved that the next one should not get the jump on
him Sparrer kept on. Sign was plentiful everywhere, and his hopes ran
high. So fearful was he of another rabbit's repeating the surprise of
the first one that as he stole forward he kept his gun at his shoulder,
until at last he was forced to lower it from sheer weariness. But in
spite of his care and watchfulness he saw no more game and at last sat
down on an old log to rest. He was tired and if the truth be known
somewhat discouraged. He was too new at the hunting game to realize that
his was no more than the usual experience of the hunter and that his
chances of success, if no better, were no worse than in the beginning.