“About fifty, I guess,” Ed replied.
“Well, I’ve a notion. Let’s get out some of them and I’ll show you what I mean,” continued Dauph.
The traps were brought out, and Dauph proceeded to demonstrate his plan. The chain of the trap would be fastened to a block of wood, then a little hole dug in the ground large enough to hold the trap, leaving the “pan,” or flat trigger, nearly level with the surface. About the trap was scattered the buckwheat straw, and on the “pan” of the trap was heaped a little pile of grain, temptingly ready for a bird breakfast.
“Now we are ready for them,” said Dauph. “They may set their old sentinels, and we’ll let them see us—at a distance.”
The plan worked. There would be a momentary flutter as a bird would be caught by the neck when the trap sprung at its pecking, or as a chicken would vainly try to fly away with the block of wood when the steel jaws closed upon a thickly feathered leg, but hearing no gun, and taking note of the human foes still at a safe distance, the foolish actions of their individual neighbors were considered to be of no concern to the rest of the flock. And never did they come to the knowledge that they were being trapped. The boys were able to harvest, each day from the traps they set, from fifteen to twenty of the big birds from their buckwheat field, and not only saved the day for the big ditching job, but through their contract were able to lay up a nice sum toward their future projects.
The drainage operations closed down in October, but not before a ditch had been run for two miles from the Yellow river to the big sand knoll. It was through this that the more serious part of the work would be found, and here again, in the latter part of March, Mr. Allen brought a crew.
“Father,” said Ed, one day, “what are you doing this spring for fresh meat? Of course we can’t get you any prairie chickens, but we would like to earn a little more money before planting time.”
Mr. Allen laughed. “Why, I haven’t heard any complaint from the men as yet about their fare, but we might take a mess of fish once in a while.”
“Fish!” exclaimed Rob. “Why, you know, father, that we have never been able to get the fish to bite to any extent since we have lived here.”
“Well, come over and look in the big ditch,” responded Mr. Allen with a smile.