TRAPPING QUAILS.
"Now, I call that a pretty good job for a first attempt," said Don;
"and considering the work we have had to do, it hasn't taken us a
great while either. I wish I dare crawl in there and set it off, just
to be sure that it will work all right."
"But that wouldn't be a very bright proceeding," replied Bert. "We
could never get you out. You would be as securely confined as you
were when you were tied up in the potato-cellar."
Don was well aware of that fact. The roof was made of logs as heavy
as they could manage with their united strength, and there were other
logs placed upon it in such a position that when the roof fell, their
weight would assist in holding it down. All these precautions were
necessary, for a bear can exert tremendous strength if he once makes
up his mind to do it; and David had repeatedly declared that if they
should chance to capture an animal as large as the one that had been
killed on that very island years before, the pen would not prove half
strong enough to hold him. But it was quite strong enough to hold Don
if he got into it, and the only way his companions could have
released him would have been by cutting the roof in pieces with their
axes.
The work was all done now, and the boys were ready to start for home.
While Bert and David were gathering up the tools and stowing them
away in the canoe, Don scattered a few ears of corn around, so that
the bear would be sure to find them the next time he visited the
island, and threw a dozen or so more into the trap close about the
trigger. The rest of the corn he hung up out of reach on a sapling
which he knew was too small for the bear to climb.
Assisted by the current the canoe made good time down the bayou. Bert
and David lay back in the stern-sheets and said they were tired,
while Don, who was seated at the oars, declared that his day's work
had relieved his stiff joints, and that he began to feel like himself
again. He was fresh enough to assist in building another trap without
an hour's rest; and in order to work off a little of his surplus
energy, he thought when he reached home he would take a turn through
the fields in company with his pointer, and see if he could bag
quails enough for his next morning's breakfast. Bert said he would go
with him, for he wanted to see the pointer work.
In about three quarters of an hour the canoe entered the lake and
drew up to the bank in front of Godfrey's cabin. David sprang out,
and after placing his gun upon the bench in front of the door, went
behind the building to unchain the pointer. He was gone a long
time--so long that Don and Bert, who were sitting in the canoe
waiting for him, began to grow impatient--and when he came back he
did not bring the pointer with him. He brought instead a chain and a
collar. His face told the brothers that he had made a most unwelcome
discovery.
"Where's the dog?" asked Bert.
"I don't know," answered David, looking up and down the road. "He
must have slipped the collar over his head and gone off; but I never
knew him to do it before."
"Well, you needn't look so sober about it," said Don. "He isn't far
away. I'll warrant I can bring him back."
Don set up a whistle that could have been heard for half a mile.
Indeed it was heard and recognised at a greater distance than that.
An answering yelp came from the direction of his father's house,
but it was not given by the dog Don wanted to see just then. It was
uttered by one of the hounds which had been shut up in the barn when
Don went away that morning, and afterward released by the hostler.
The others answered in chorus, and half a dozen fleet animals were
seen coming down the road at the top of their speed. But the pointer
was not with them.
"It's likely we shall find him at the house," said Bert, who wanted
to say something encouraging for David's benefit.
"I don't doubt it," returned Don. "If he's there, Dave, we'll take a
short hunt with him and bring him down in the morning."
"If you don't care I'll go up with you," said David, "It would be a
great relief to me to know that he is safe."
"All right. Jump aboard."
David got into the canoe again and Don pulled up the lake toward the
wharf. When they reached it the boat was made fast to the tree again,
and the three boys started for the house. Don at once began making
inquiries concerning his pointer, but no one had seen him, and his
loud and continued whistling brought only the hounds, which snuffed
at the guns and yelped and jumped about as if trying to make their
master understand that they were there, and ready for anything he
might want them to do.
"Never mind," said Don, who did not seem to feel half as bad as David
did; "dogs of his breed never stray far away, and he'll be at your
house or ours before morning, you may depend upon it. Good-by now,
and don't forget to be on hand at an early hour. We must set to work
upon those traps without any more delay."
David reluctantly turned his face toward home, and Don and Bert
went into the house. "I didn't tell him just what I think about the
matter, for he feels badly enough already," said Don, when he and his
brother were in their room, dressing for supper. "There's an awful
thief about here, and it wouldn't surprise me at all to know that the
pointer has gone where our canoe went."
"Do you know that that thought has been in my mind all the while?"
returned Bert. "Who is the thief?"
"I give it up. If he lives about here he's foolish to steal my dog,
for he never can use him in hunting. There isn't a man or boy in the
settlement but would recognise him the moment he saw him."
"Perhaps he was stolen in the hope that a reward would be offered for
his return," suggested Bert.
"Well, there's something in that. But after all," added Don, a few
minutes later, "there isn't so much in it, for how could the thief
return the dog without making himself known? Still I hope it is
so--that is, if the dog was stolen--for rather than lose him, I'll
give ten dollars to anybody who will bring him back to me, and ask no
questions. If I have to do that it will ruin me, for it will take my
last cent."
The ringing of the supper bell put a stop to their conversation for
the time being, but it was resumed as soon as the family were
gathered about the table. Various explanations were offered for the
pointer's absence, and when that matter had been talked over, the
events of the day were brought up for discussion. Bert acted as
spokesman, and when he told how the hounds had driven the bear from
his den and forced him to swim the bayou, Don was surprised to see
that his father smiled as if he did not quite believe it. "It's the
truth, every word of it," said Don, almost indignantly.
"O, I don't doubt that you found something on the island and drove it
off," replied the General, "but I don't think it was a bear."
"What was it?" asked Don.
"It was something you will not be likely to catch in your trap. It
was Godfrey Evans."
Don dropped his knife and fork, and settled back in his chair. "We
saw tracks in the mud that did not look to me like bear tracks,
that's a fact," said he. "If that was Godfrey, he's the one who stole
our canoe."
"Then we have had all our trouble for nothing," said Bert.
"Perhaps not," replied his father. "The island has been much
frequented by bears ever since I can remember, and it may be that
your labor will be rewarded in a day or two. It might be well for you
to watch your trap at any rate. If you should happen to catch a young
bear, that you could bring home alive, Silas Jones would give you
twenty dollars for it. That would be a big addition to David's little
capital, for of course you wouldn't want any of the money."
"Of course not. All we want is the fun of catching the bear."
Don and Bert were up the next morning before the sun, as they always
were, and as soon as they were dressed, they went out to the shop and
found David there busy with his traps. He knew where the key was
kept, under the door-step, and at the first peep of day he had let
himself in and gone to work. Of course the first questions that were
asked and answered were in regard to the missing pointer, but no one
had seen or heard anything of him. David seemed to take the loss very
much to heart. The animal was a valuable one, and he felt that he was
in some degree responsible for his safe-keeping.
Three pairs of willing hands made light work, and by two o'clock in
the afternoon a dozen traps were completed and ready for setting. The
boys then stopped long enough to take a hasty lunch, which they ate
in the shop, in order to save time, and after that one of the mules
was hitched to a wagon and brought before the door. The traps, a
basket containing the "figure fours," with which they were to be
set, a bag of corn for bait, an axe, with which to clear away the
underbrush, and a spade to dig the trenches, having been packed away
in the vehicle, the boys got in and drove off. They directed their
course along the fence, which ran around the plantation, and wherever
they found a clump of bushes or a little thicket of briers and cane,
there they stopped long enough to set one of their traps.
The traps were made of slats split from oak boards, and were a little
less than four feet square and a little more than a foot in height.
In the top was a slide covering a hole large enough to admit one's
arm, and it was through this hole that the captured birds were to be
taken out. The undergrowth was first cut away with the axe and the
trap put down in the clear space, a narrow board being placed under
two sides of it, to give it a solid foundation. A trench just large
enough to admit a single quail was dug under each of these boards,
one end of the trench being on the outside of the trap and the other
on the inside. A small ear of corn was tied firmly to the trigger,
the trap set with the "figure four," a few kernels were scattered
about in the immediate neighborhood, and the trap was ready for the
first flock of quails that might come that way. When they came, they
would, of course, find the corn, and while they were eating it they
would be sure to find the trap. One or more of them would go in and
spring it by pecking at the ear that was tied to the trigger, and the
others, no matter if there were a hundred in the flock, would all go
in to him through the trenches before spoken of. After they had eaten
the corn, they would look _up_ instead of down for a way of escape,
and, although the trenches at which they came in were still open to
them, they would not know enough to make use of them. If the trap was
once sprung, the capture of the entire flock was certain, provided
those outside were not frightened away before they had time to go in
to their imprisoned companions.
In two hours' time the traps had all been set and the boys were at
home again. They had done a good day's work, but they wanted to do
a better; so as soon as the mule was unharnessed and the wagon put
under the shed where it belonged, they set to work in the shop again,
and before dark a large coop, which would just fit into the wagon
box, was completed. This was to be used to bring home the captured
quails. After that one of the unoccupied negro cabins was selected to
confine the birds in until the required number had been trapped. It
received a thorough sweeping, the floor was covered with clean sand,
and the broken window was boarded up so that the captives could not
escape. When this was done David started for home, and Don and Bert
went into the house to get ready for supper.
The next day was spent much as the preceding one had been spent. At
eleven o'clock seven more traps were ready for the field. Then the
mule and wagon were brought into use again, and the new traps were
distributed along the fence. When the boys came back they took time
to eat lunch, after which the coop was put into the wagon, and they
set out to visit the traps they had set the day before.
"There's nothing here," said Bert, as he drew rein in front of the
thicket in which the first trap was located. He could not see the
trap, but his ears told him all he wanted to know. If there had been
any quails in it they would have uttered their notes of alarm as soon
as they heard the wagon coming.
"No, there's nothing here!" said Don, after listening a moment. "I'll
scatter a little more corn about and make sure that the trap is all
right."
He got out of the wagon as he spoke, and while he was working his way
into the thicket he flushed a blue-jay, which flew into a tree close
by and scolded him with all its might. Don shied a stick at it and
kept on to the trap. It was down, and there was something in it which
fluttered its wings against the bars and made the most frantic
efforts to escape. Don knew it was not a quail, so he did not stop to
see what it was. He threw back the slide, thrust his hand into the
opening and when he clutched the bird received a severe bite from it.
"I have half a mind to wring your little neck for you," thought Don,
as he brought the fluttering captive, a beautiful red-bird, into
view. "Not because you have bitten me, but because you will make it
your business to come here and spring this trap every day. Red-birds
and blue-jays are perfect nuisances when a fellow is trapping, and I
wouldn't blame Dave for shooting every one he sees."
But Don did not injure the bird. He was a sportsman, and never made
war on game of this sort. He tossed the captive into the air and it
flew away out of sight.
Having set the trap again and scattered a little more corn about to
replace that which had been picked up by the birds, Don went back to
the wagon and Bert drove on down the field. They found the second
trap thrown, and the marks of little teeth on the ear of corn that
was tied to the trigger showed that a ground squirrel had been at
work. The third trap was also sprung, and the shrill, piping notes of
alarm which came to their ears when Bert stopped the wagon, told them
that they had made their first capture. Jumping quickly out of the
wagon the boys made their way into the bushes, and when they came
within sight of the trap they found that it was so full that the
little prisoners had scarcely room to turn about.
"Here's the first instalment of your hundred and fifty dollars,
Dave," cried Don. "We've got more than a dozen, I know!"
Having stopped up the ends of the trenches so that the quails could
not escape, Don thrust his arm through the opening in the top of the
trap and began passing out the birds to his brother and David, who
carried them to the wagon and put them into the coop. He counted them
as he took them out, and found that there were nearer two dozen than
one, twenty being the exact number. One, however, escaped from Bert,
who, through fear of injuring it, handled it too tenderly.
"Never mind," said Don, when his brother told him of the loss. "He'll
go off and join some other flock, so we are bound to catch him
anyhow. I call this a good beginning, don't you, Dave? It looks now
as though you were going to earn your money in spite of Lester and
Dan."
After re-setting the trap the boys got into the wagon and drove on.
They found some of their traps just as they had left them; a few had
been thrown by ground squirrels or red-birds; and from the others
they took enough quails to make their day's catch amount to a little
over four dozen. These were all safely transferred to the cabin, the
mule was unharnessed and the young trappers, greatly encouraged by
their success, replenished the fire in the shop, for the day was raw
and chilly, and went to work to build more traps.