"While yer argufyin' with a fool, jes' figger thar's two on
'em."--Old Cy Walker.
The streams and swamps contiguous to this lake were well adapted for the
habitat of mink, muskrat, otter, fisher, and those large fur-bearing
animals, the lynx and lucivee, and here a brief description of where
such animals exist, and how they are caught, may be of interest.
The habits of the muskrat, the least cunning of these, are so well
known that they merit only a few words. They are amphibious animals,
their food is succulent roots, bulbs, and bark, and they frequent small,
marshy ponds, sluggish streams, and swamps. In summer they conceal
themselves by burrowing into soft banks; in winter they erect houses
of sedge-grass, roots, and mud, and are caught in small steel traps
set in shallow water at the entrance of their paths out of lake or stream.
Mink, marten, otter, and fisher are much alike in shape and habit. All
belong to the same family, but vary in size, also slightly in the matter
of food. Mink and marten live on fish, frogs, birds, mice, etc.; otter on
fish and roots; and fishers, as their name implies, subsist largely on
fish. All these are more valuable fur-bearing animals than muskrats.
Their abiding places are swamps and shallow streams, in the banks of
which they burrow, and they are usually caught in steel traps baited
with fish or meat.
The lucivee, or lynx, and bobcat, more ferocious and cunning than their
smaller cousins, roam the woods and swamps, live on smaller animals,
hide in caves, crevices, and hollow trees, and they as well as otter
occasionally are caught in deadfalls.
Old Cy, familiar as he was with the homes, habits, and the manner of
catching these cunning animals, soon began his trap-setting campaign.
A few dozen steel traps were first set along the stream and lagoons
entering the lake, and then he and Ray pushed up Beaver Brook, and
leaving their canoe, followed its narrow valley in search of suitable
spots to set the more elaborated deadfalls, which also merit description.
A deadfall is made by placing one end of a suitably sized log--one
perhaps fifteen feet long and a foot in diameter--on a figure four trap,
so adjusted that its spindle end, to which the bait is secured, shall
be poised beneath the upraised end of the log. Alongside of this log
a double row of stakes is driven to form a pen with entrance leading
to the bait. When this deadly contrivance is properly adjusted, the
log and its pen of stakes is concealed with green boughs piled lightly
over it, and all the hungry lynx sees is a narrow opening under green
boughs, and in it a tempting morsel awaiting him. As those creatures,
as well as now and then an otter, are sure to roam up and down all
small streams, a spot where one emerges from a narrow defile, or joins a
larger one, is usually selected for a deadfall.
It is also quite a task to clear a suitable space, fell a right-sized
tree, and construct one of these penlike traps; and although Old Cy and
Ray started early, it was mid-afternoon that day ere they had the third
one ready and awaiting its possible victim.
As gum-gathering was also a part of their season's plan, they now left
the swamp valley, and, ascending the spruce-clad upland, began this work,
which is also worthy of description.
The chewing gum of commerce, so delightful to schoolgirls and small boys,
is the refined, diluted, and sweetened product of gum nuts, or the small
excrescences of spruce sap that exudes and hardens around knot-holes and
cracks in the bark of those trees. These form into hardened nuts or
knobs of gum, from the size of a hazelnut to that of butternut, and
are worth from a dollar to a dollar and fifty cents a pound. A long pole
with a sharpened knife or chisel fastened to its tip is used by gum
seekers. It can be gathered from the time frost first hardens it until
spring, and to gather three to five pounds is considered a good day's
work.
Ray's first attempt at this labor seemed like nut-gathering at home,
only more romantic, and when they were well into the vast spruce growth
bordering one side of the Beaver Brook valley, he became so interested in
hunting for the brown knobs, loosening them, and picking them up that
he would have soon lost all points of the compass, except for Old Cy.
There is also a spice of danger seasoning this pursuit. A wildcat might
at any moment be seen watching from the crotch of a tree, or a bear might
suddenly emerge from the thicket. It was hard work also, for while some
parts of a spruce forest may be free from undergrowth, not all portions
are, and this tangle is one not easy to move about in.
There was also another element that entered into the trapping and
gum-gathering life,--the possible return of the half-breed.
"He hain't nothin' agin us," Old Cy asserted, when the question came
up. "We didn't chase him the day he stole Chip, 'n' yet I s'pose
he'll show up some day, 'n' mebbe do us harm."
It was this fear that had led Old Cy to leave one of their canoes in a
log locker, securely barred, and also to caution the hermit to remain
on guard at the cabin while he and Ray were away.
A canoe is the one most vital need of a wildwood life, for the reason
that the streams are the only avenues of escape and afford the only
opportunities for travel.
The wilderness, of course, can be traversed, but not easily. Swamps
will be met and must be avoided, for a wilderness swamp is practically
impassable. Streams can be forded, but lakes must be encompassed,
and even an upland forest is but a tangled jungle of fallen trees and
undergrowth.
Old Cy knew, or at least he felt almost sure, that the half-breed would
return in good time. He had also reasoned out his failure to do so at
once, and knew that left canoeless, as he had been that tragic day, his
only course must be the one he actually followed. A month had elapsed
since then, with no sign of this "varmint's" return, and now Old Cy
was on the watch for it.
Each morning, when he traversed the lake shore from ice-house to landing,
he looked for tell-tale footprints. He watched for them wherever he went,
and the distant report of a rifle would have been accepted as a sure
harbinger of this enemy.
It became their custom now each day, first to visit all small traps
in the near-by streams, then pushing their canoe as far as possible
up the Beaver Brook, to leave it, continue up the valley, and after
inspecting their deadfalls, turn to the right out of this swale, and
begin the gathering of gum.
And now, one day, in carrying out this programme, a discovery was made.
They had first visited the small traps near the lake, securing a couple
of mink and three muskrats, which were left in the canoe. An otter was
found in one of the deadfalls, and taking this with them, they entered
the spruce timber and hung it on a conspicuous limb. Then the search for
gum began.
As usual, they worked hard. The days were short, the best of sunlight
was needful to see the brown nuts in the sombre forest, and so they
paid no heed to aught except what was overhead. When time to return
arrived, Old Cy picked up his rifle and led the way back to where the
otter had been left, but it had vanished. Glancing about to make sure
that he was right, he advanced to the tree, looked down, and saw two
footprints. Stooping over to examine them better in the uncertain light,
he noted also that they were not his own, but larger, and made by some
one wearing boots.
"Tain't the half-breed," he muttered, with an accent of relief, and
looking about, he saw a well-defined trail leading down the slope and
thence onward toward the swamp.
Some one had crossed this broad, oval, spruce-covered upland while they
were not two hundred rods away from this tree, had stolen their otter,
and gone on into the swamp.
Any freshly made human footprint found in a vast wilderness awakens
curiosity; these seemed ominous.
"He must 'a' seen us 'fore he did the otter," Old Cy ejaculated,
"an' it's curis he didn't make himself known. Neighbors ain't over
plenty, hereabout."
But the sun was nearing the tree-tops, the canoe was a mile away, and
after one more look around, Old Cy started for it. There was no use in
following this trail now, for it led into the tangled swamp, and so,
skirting this until a point opposite the canoe was reached, Old Cy and
Ray then plunged into it.
Twilight had begun to shadow this vale ere the canoe was reached. And
here was another surprise, for the canoe was found turned half over, and
on its broad oval bottom was a curious outline of black mud. The light
was not good here. A fir-grown ledge shadowed the spot; but as Old Cy
stooped to examine this mud-made emblem, it gradually took shape, and
he saw--a skull and cross bones!
"Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon!" he exclaimed, "I never s'posed a
pirate 'ud fetch in here! An' he's swiped our muskrats and mink," he
added, as he looked under the canoe, "durn him!"
Then the bold bravado of it all occurred to Old Cy. The theft was
doubtless made by whosoever had taken their otter, and not content
with robbing them, he had added insult.
"I s'pose we'd orter be grateful he left the paddles 'n' didn't
smash the canoe," Old Cy continued, turning it over. "I wonder who't
can be?"
One hasty look around revealed the same boot-marks in the soft earth near
the stream, and then he and Ray launched their craft and started for home.
"I'm goin' to foller them tracks to-morrer," Old Cy said, when they
were entering the lake and a light in the cabin just across reassured
him. "It may be a little resky, but I'm goin' to find out what sorter
a neighbor we've got."