“Something’s been here,” said Jesse. The moss had been dug out and put back again.
Skookie smiled and walked on a little farther and showed them several other such places a few yards apart. He held up the fingers of one hand.
“Five klipsie,” he said, and then swept an arm around toward the face of the mountains, remarking: “My peoples come here.”
“Oh,” said Rob; “he means that here is where his family come to set their klipsie traps for foxes. I suppose these places are where the same klipsies were set five different times. I have heard that when they catch a fox in one place they always take up their trap and move it on a little way so that the other foxes may not be frightened away by the smell of the dead fox or the trap.”
“I wonder,” said Jesse, “if any fox would have good fur this late in the spring.”
“He might,” said Rob, “if he had been living all the time up in the mountains near the snow; but as the natives trap a good deal along the beach, I suppose they took up their traps some time ago. They never like to take fur unless it is good, of course.”
“Anyhow,” said Jesse, “I shouldn’t mind trying once for a fox. We might get a good one. I’ve heard they catch foxes sometimes—silver-grays or blacks, you know—that are worth three or four hundred dollars.”
“Or even more,” added Rob; “but that is when they’re very prime, and when they bring the top of the market.”