When Francois 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 Francois 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. Francois 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 Francois!" 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; "Francois knows better than that: to smell that
Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us
cares to pay. Francois 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 Francois 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 Francois, 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--Francois 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--"
"'_They_ talked,'" interrupted Carcajou; "nobody talked of making you
King."
"_You_ didn'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! Francois 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 Francois 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 Francois 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 Francois."
"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 Francois 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 Francois 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.
[Illustration: THEY WERE A FUNNY-LOOKING PARTY.]
"Walk in Rof's tracks, Pisew, till you strike a muskeg," ordered the
King; "Francois won't fancy the fun of following a traveller like you
through a big swamp."
"I should like to hide that Trap," lamented Carcajou.
"Oh, never mind," interrupted Black Fox. "Get away home, everybody."
"I'll hear some choice French to-night," declared Jack. "When Francois
discovers that somebody has robbed his Trap, he'll jabber himself
asleep."
All the way to his home Carcajou swore vengeance on the Man who had made
his paws so sore. "You'll do it, Brother," said Rof, "and I don't blame
you. Of course we must remember our oath about The Boy."