“Yes,” answered Archie.
“An’ lost it up here in the woods but two mile back.”
“Yes,” said Archie again.
“An’ that’s the way you’ll keep doin’ as often as you chase him. You can’t ketch him. He’s an ole one in these parts, an’ I guess he’ll stay here till he dies a nat’ral death.”
“No, I’ll be shot if he does,” said Archie, decidedly, as he deposited his gun on a couple of pegs in one corner of the cabin, and began to divest himself of his overcoat. “I’ve got a dog that was never fooled yet. There was a fox that used to live on Reynard’s Island, a short distance from Lawrence, and he had been chased by all the best dogs in the country; but the first time he got Sport on his trail, he was a gone sucker. I’m going to start out early to-morrow and try that black fox again, and if I don’t catch him the first day, I’ll try him the next, and keep it up till I do succeed. I don’t mean to leave these woods without him.”
“Then you’d better send home for plenty of grub,” said the trapper, “for you’ll have to stay here all winter.”
“Supper’s ready,” said Frank; and this announcement cut short the conversation.