SETTING THE FLASHLIGHT TRAP
“Jud’s holding up one measly rabbit, as sure as anything!” exclaimed Bobolink, with a vein of scorn in his voice, as became the lord of the hunt, who on the preceding day had actually brought down a young buck, and thus provided the camp with a feast for supper.
“We’d soon starve to death if we had to depend on poor old Jud for our grub!” remarked Tom Betts, with a sad shake of his head.
“All that waste of ammunition, and just a lone rabbit to show for it! They say successful hunters must be born, not made!” Sandy Griggs went on to say.
Other sarcastic remarks went the rounds, while Jud just stood meekly, seeming to be very much downcast.
“Are you all through?” he finally asked, looking up with a grin. “Because before you condemn me entirely as a poor stick of a hunter I want to ask Bobolink here, and Spider Sexton to walk 150 over to that low oak tree you can see back yonder, and fetch in what they find in the fork. I caved on the home stretch and dropped my load there.”
“Good for you, Jud!” exclaimed Paul. “I suspected something of the kind when I saw the soiled condition of the game pockets in your hunting-coat, and noticed that a partridge feather was sticking to your hair. Skip along, you two, and make amends for joshing Jud so.”
Of course Bobolink and Spider fairly ran, and soon came back carrying seven plump partridges between them, at sight of which a great cheer arose. Like all fickle crowds, the boys now applauded Jud just as strongly as they had previously sought to poke fun at him.
“Oh! I don’t deserve much credit, boys,” he told them. “These birds just tree after you scare them up, and make easy shots. If they flew off like bullets, as they do in some parts of the country, that would be a bag worth boasting of. But they’ll taste mighty fine, all the same, let me tell you!”
During the afternoon the scouts found many things to interest them. Tolly Tip, of course, had to take care of the pelts he had secured that day, and his manner of doing this interested some of the boys considerably.
He had a great many thin boards of peculiar 151 pattern to which the skins were to be attached after stretching, so that they would dry in this shape.
“Most skins ye notice are cut open an’ cured that way,” the old woodsman explained to his audience, as he worked deftly with his knife; “but some kinds are cased, bein’ taken off whole, and turned inside out to dry.”
“I suppose you lay them near the fire, or out in the sun, to cure,” remarked Tom Betts. “I know that’s the way the Indians dry the pemmican that they use in the winter for food.”
“Pelts are niver cured that way,” explained the trapper, “because it’d make thim shrink. We kape the stretcher boards wid the skins out in the open air, but in the shade where the sun don’t come. Whin they git to a certain stage it’s proper to stack the same away in the cabin, kapin’ a wary eye on ’em right along to prevint mould.”
All such things proved of considerable interest to the scouts, most of whom had very little practical knowledge along these lines. They were eager to pick up useful information wherever it could be found, and on that account asked numerous questions, all of which Tolly Tip seemed delighted to answer.
So another nightfall found them, with everything moving along nicely. 152
“Guess your old barometer didn’t hit it far wrong after all, Paul,” remarked Sandy Griggs, about the time supper was nearly ready, and the boys were going in and out of the cabin on different errands.
“It has clouded up to be sure,” said the scout-master, “and may snow at any time, though I hope it will hold off until to-morrow. I mean to set my camera trap to-night, you remember, with another comb of wild bee honey for a bear lure.”
“I heard Tolly Tip saying a bit ago,” continued Sandy, “that he didn’t believe the storm would reach us for twelve hours or more. That would give you plenty of time to get your chance with old Bruin, who loves honey so.”
“Jud’s promised to go out with me and help set the trap,” Paul remarked. “You know it’s a walk of nearly a mile to the place, and these snowy woods are pretty lonely after the dark sets in.”
“If Jud backs out because he’s tired from his tramp this morning, Paul, call on me, will you?”
“Bobolink said the same thing,” laughed the scout-master, “so I’m sure not to be left in the lurch. No need of more than one going with me though, and I guess I can count on Jud. It’s hard to tire him.”
“Wow! but those birds do smell good!” exclaimed 153 Sandy, as he sniffed the air. “And that oven of Tolly Tip’s, in which he says he often bakes bread, seems to do the work all right. Looks to me like one of the kind you get with a blue flame kerosene stove.”
“Just what it is,” Paul told him. “But it works splendidly on a red coal fire, too. We’re going to try some baking-powder biscuits to-morrow, Bobolink says. He’s tickled over finding the oven here.”
The partridges were done to a turn, and never had those hungry boys sat down to a better feast than several of their number had prepared for them that night. The old woodsman complimented Bobolink, who was the chief cook.
“I ralely thought I could cook,” Tolly Tip said, “but ’tis mesilf as takes a back sate whin such a connysure is around. And biscuits is it ye mane to thry in the mornin’? I’ll make it a pint to hang around long enough to take lissons, for I confiss that up till now I niver did have much success with thim things.”
Again some of the scouts had to warn Bobolink that he was in jeopardy of his life if he allowed his chest to swell up, as it seemed to be doing under such compliments.
After that wonderful supper had been disposed of, Paul busied himself with his camera, for he 154 had several things to fix before it would be ready to serve as a trap to catch the picture of Bruin in the act of stealing the honey bait.
Jud fondled his shotgun, having thoughtfully replaced the bird shells with a couple of shells containing buckshot that he had brought along in the hope of getting a deer.
“No telling what we may run across when trapsing through the woods with a lantern after nightfall,” he explained to Phil Towns, who was watching his operation with mild interest, not being a hunter himself.
“What would you do if you came face to face with the bear, or perhaps a panther?” asked Phil. “Tolly Tip said he saw one of the big cats last winter.”
“Well, now, that’s hardly a fair question,” laughed Jud. “I’m too modest a fellow to go around blowing my own horn; but the chances are I wouldn’t run. And if both barrels of my gun went off the plagued beast might stand in the way of getting hurt. Figure that out if you can, Phil.”
After a little while Paul arose to his feet and proceeded to light the lantern they had provided for the outing.
“I’m ready if you are, Jud,” he remarked, and shortly afterwards the two left the cabin, Tolly Tip once more repeating the plain directions, so 155 that there need be no fear that the boys would get lost in the snowy woods.
Paul was too wise a woodsman to be careless, and he took Jud directly to the spot which the bear had visited the preceding night.
“Don’t see anything of the creature around, do you?” asked Jud, nervously handling his gun as he spoke.
“Not a sign as yet,” replied Paul. “But the chances are he’ll remember the treat he found here last night, and come trotting along before many hours. That’s what Tolly Tip told me, and he ought to know.”
“Strikes me a bear is a pretty simple sort of an animal after all,” chuckled Jud. “He must think that honey rains down somehow, and never questions but that he’ll find more where the first comb lay. Tell me what to do, Paul, and I’ll be only too glad to help you.”
The camera was presently fixed just where Paul had decided on his previous visit would be the best place. Long experience had taught the lad just how to arrange it so that the animal of which he wished to get a flashlight picture would be compelled to approach along a certain avenue.
When it attempted to take the bait the cord would be pulled, and the cartridge exploded, producing the flash required to take the picture. 156
“There!” he said finally, after working for at least fifteen minutes, “everything is arranged to a dot, and we can start back home. If Mr. Bear comes nosing around here to-night, and starts to get that honeycomb, I reckon he’ll hand me over something in return in the shape of a photograph.”
“Here’s hoping you’ll get the best picture ever, Paul!” said Jud, earnestly, for he had been deeply impressed with the clever manner in which the photographer went about his duties.
They had gone almost a third of the way over the back trail when a thrilling sound came to their ears almost directly in the path they were following. Both boys came to a sudden halt, and as Jud started to raise his gun he exclaimed:
“Unless I miss my guess, Paul, that was one of the bobcats Tolly Tip told us about.”