“Indians, as sure as I’m alive!” ejaculated Harry; “and, shoot me, if our trap isn’t gone.” And thrusting his arm into the stump, he commenced feeling around for the article in question, but it could not be found.
“Yes, sir,” he continued, rising to his feet, “it is gone, and no mistake. Feel in there.”
Frank accordingly got down on his knees and made an examination of the stump; but the trap, beyond a doubt, had been carried off.
“Now, that is provoking!” he exclaimed.
“There was a mink in the trap, too,” continued Harry, pointing to some bits of fur that lay scattered about over the snow. “I wish the rascals that took it had it crammed down their throats.”
“It does no good to scold, Harry,” said Frank, “for that won’t mend the matter. But let us go around and visit the other traps; perhaps they have carried off all of them.”
The boys accordingly went around to every place where they had left their traps, but not one of them could be found.
“Now, there’s thirteen dollars gone to the dogs,” said Harry, angrily; “for every one of those traps was worth a dollar, at least. I wish Dick was here. We would follow up the scoundrels and recover our property. What shall we do?”
“Let’s follow them up, any how,” replied Frank. “Perhaps we can catch them—the trail seems plain enough. How many of them do you suppose there were?”
“There were two Indians and as many dogs,” answered Harry. “Here’s a track made by a fellow that must have had a foot as big as all out-doors; and here’s another, of very respectable size.”