“I fooled him with a mouse,” laughed the trapper.
“A mouse?” queried George, incredulously. “How?”
“Well, I smoked the trap over balsam boughs for several days. You see, the nose of a fox is powerful keen, and he can smell iron rust or man-scent every time. Of course, unless you can cover up such odors, there’s not much use making a set. Once a fox knows the trap is there, he’ll dig carefully around it till it’s all exposed to view. Then, like as not, he’ll put his paw underneath, turn the trap over, spring it, and walk off with the bait.
“There are several ways to fool him by destroying the scent. The two most used are smoking the trap thoroughly and setting it an inch or so under water. That’s what we call a ‘wet-set,’ and it usually fools the wisest of them. To make it, we place the trap just beneath the surface, at some still place of the lake, or stream, and float a piece of moss, or mass of leaves, directly over the pan, arranged in such a way as to protrude slightly out of water and give the impression of a dry foothold. You see, a fox doesn’t like to wet his feet if he can avoid it. Well, he comes to the edge of the water, sees that he must cross it to reach the bait, and, spying the dry footing above the trap, steps on it and is caught.
“But to get back to the mouse. You’ll remember that there was no water near where this fellow crossed, so I was obliged to make a ‘dry-set.’ As I’ve said, I smoked the trap thoroughly over balsam. Then I hunted around until I found a wood-mouse. Next I poured anise-seed oil over the soles of my moccasins, and also on the gloves I intended to wear. This destroyed the human scent about the trap and set. I carefully concealed the trap, sprinkled some weed seeds over the center of it, and placed my mouse, all huddled up in a heap, directly over the pan, as though he had squatted there to eat the seeds.
“Now then, what happened? Why, the fox came sneaking along on the scent of the anise, which he likes, saw the mouse crouching plumb before him, and, without waiting to ask any questions, pounced on it with his front paws and landed in the trap.”
XVI
A VISITOR
The next day the boys started early on the return trail to Ben, accompanied by Bill and Moze. They had long since learned to love the great silent forest, and as they went on they constantly called attention to some one of its manifold beauties.
Moze, now quite recovered from his honorable wounds, dashed on ahead as usual. His short, snappy bark echoed through the woods as he sped away on each fresh trail that crossed his path.