Hugh agreed, and Jack climbed up into the pine tree, where Hugh threw him a rope by which he hauled up the carcass of a beaver, which he hung over a limb in such fashion that it could not be shaken out by the wind.
"There," said Hugh, "I reckon before we get through we'll have those bears regularly wonted to this place, but I'd rather not shoot at them, or fire any guns until we have finished our trapping."
"Well," said Jack, "we can be pretty sure that the bears won't go away as long as we leave something for them to eat here every day."
"No," said Hugh, "they won't leave the place as long as there's food."
"Do you know, son," he went on, "what the best thing in the world is to drag, if you want to make a trail around a trap to bring a bear to it?"
"No," said Jack, "what is it?"
"Why, it's a beaver. I don't know whether it is that bears are especially fond of beaver, or whether its just the strong smell, but if you take a beaver carcass and drag that, every bear that crosses the trail will follow it up. We'll have to try that in case we set a bear trap anywhere."
"Why, Hugh," replied Jack, "that's just what a wolfer told me on the boat that year we went to Benton; or at least he told me a beaver made the best kind of a drag for wolves."
"Well," said Hugh, "he told you true."
Mounting, they rode to the stream, and crossing, followed it down on the west bank.