"Why? You think you're that smart? Jest becuz you stuck up a tourist you
think you're cock o' the North Woods--with them two foxes lyin' out for
to snap you up? Hey? Why, you poor dumb thing, Jake runs Canadian hootch
for a livin' and Leverett's a trap thief! What could _you_ do with a
pair o' foxes like that?"
"Catch 'em," said Smith, coolly. "You mind your business, Mike."
As he shouldered his rifle and started into the marsh, Clinch dropped a
heavy hand on his shoulder; but the young man shook it off.
"Shut up," he said sharply. "You've a private war on your hands. So have
I. I'll take care of my own."
"What's _your_ grievance?" demanded Clinch, surprised.
"Jake Kloon played a dirty trick on me."
"When was that?"
"Not very long ago."
"I hadn't heard," said Clinch.
"Well, you hear it now, don't you? All right. All right; I'm going after
him."
As he started again across the marsh, Clinch called out in a guarded
voice: "Take good care of that packet if you catch them rats. It belongs
to Eve."
"I'll take such good care of it," replied Smith, "that its proper owner
need not worry."