So the two boys went into the shop. The room was indeed in great confusion. The floor was covered with chips and shavings. The tools were lying in disorder on the bench. There was a saw-horse in the middle of the room, tumbled over upon one side, because one of the legs was out. The handle was out of the hatchet, and one of the claws of the hammer was broken.
While Stuyvesant was surveying this scene of disorder, Phonny advanced to the bench, and pushing away the tools from one corner of it, he put the trap down.
“There!” said he, “he will be safe there till after dinner.”
“Only,” said Stuyvesant, “he may finish gnawing out.”
“I will stop him up,” said Phonny.
So saying he took the foreplane, which is a tool formed of a steel cutter, set in a pretty long and heavy block of wood, and placed it directly before the hole in the trap. “There!” said he, “now if he does gnaw the hole big enough, he can’t get out, for he can’t push the plane away.”
“Perhaps he will be hungry,” said Stuyvesant.
“No,” said Phonny, “for there was half an ear of corn tied to the spindle for bait, and he has not eaten but a very little of it yet, I can see by peeping in.”
“Then, perhaps, he will be thirsty,” said Stuyvesant.