“Fox,” said Bill.
The trapper walked forward, club in hand, and leaned over and dealt the animal a blow across the nose. Then he stooped and released the jaws of the trap. Rising, he held up the rich, glossy body of a red fox.
“Don’t you shoot them?” asked Ed, in some surprise.
“No, indeed; that would injure the fur and lose me many dollars,” replied the trapper. “Of course, in the case of a bear, or extra big lynx, I am obliged to put a rifle-ball between the eyes.”
Bill wedged a stick between two adjacent trees and hung the body of the fox from it. Then he cut a slit down the inside of each hind leg to the base of the tail. Next he inserted the knife-blade beneath the cartilage of the tail and severed it from the body. He peeled the skin over the carcass toward the neck and on over the head, first carefully pushing through the bones of the front legs and skinning them down to the paws, which he cut off. Bill was very particular to cut around the eyelids and nostrils. The boys marveled at the skill displayed in removing the pelt. The trapper said that method was known as “boxing” a pelt, and was used in skinning everything except racoons, beavers, and bears. These, he explained, were cut open down the front from chin to tail in what was called the “open” style.
Having finished his task, Bill rolled the pelt into a small bundle and placed it in his pack. After disposing of the body and resetting the trap, he carefully obliterated his tracks by brushing snow over them. Then he uncorked a small bottle and sprinkled a yellow essence, which he called fox scent, over the snow near the trap.
Again they resumed the trail and started for the third set, which was not far from the one they had tended. When they arrived there they found the trap sprung and the bait gone. All about were evidences of a fierce struggle—pieces of broken sticks, patches of gray fur, and the marks of a bloody footprint.
“Been a lynx in there,” declared Bill; “but it just nipped him by the toe, and he thrashed around till he tore loose.”
“Gracious, I’ll bet he was mad!” said George, looking about at the bark-stripped bushes on which the captive had vented its wrath.
Bill carefully reset the trap but said that particular lynx had probably grown wise by its experience, and would no doubt avoid the locality in the future.