“That’s so,” admitted the cobbler. “I’ll make a new trap and put in bigger cracks. Then we can see what we’ve caught.”
Mrs. Traddle, after looking from a window and seeing no signs of any raging animal, came out into the garden again.
“Are you fixing,” she asked Mr. Crispen, her mouth drawing to a thin line, “to make another trap and set it in my garden?”
“I was,” spoke the cobbler.
“No,” said Mrs. Traddle firmly. “No more deer traps in my garden! I’ve been bothered enough. Set your deer trap some other place.”
“But this is the best place,” protested the cobbler. “The deer has been here once. He likes your garden, Mrs. Traddle. He is sure to come again.”
“Well, if he comes again he can go again. He isn’t going to be trapped and turn into a goat to scare a body into a conniption fit. No more deer traps in my garden!”
“Well, all right,” said the cobbler, somewhat sadly. “I guess you boys will have to look around for other places where the deer comes and I’ll set my trap there.”
“All right,” assented Teddy. “We’ll have to take the trail again, fellows.”
“The trail of the mystery deer!” said Joe.