Connie Morgan in the Fur Country

by James B. Hendryx

The Indian nodded slowly. "Mebbe-so—mebbe-so not. De carcajo, she smart. She hard to ketch."

"So are we smart!" exclaimed the boy. "Come on—let's go!"

"Ain' no good we go 'long de trap line. De trap she all be bust up. We go back to de cabin an' git som' beaver trap, an' we start out on de odder end an' back-track 'long de trap line. Mebbe-so de carcajo ain' had time to git over de whole line yet. Anyhow, we got to set plenty trap for him."

Hastening back to the cabin, the frozen martens were thawed out and skinned, and 'Merican Joe made up his pack for the trail. Connie refrained from asking questions, as the Indian solemnly made up his queer pack, but the boy resolved to keep his eyes open the following day, for of all the things the Indian placed in his pack sack, there was nothing that appeared to be of any use whatever except the six stout beaver traps.

Daylight next morning found them at the end of the trap line which they back-trailed for some five or six miles without seeing any signs of the presence of the carcajo. They had four martens in their packs, and Connie was beginning to believe that the outlook was not so bad after all, when they suddenly came upon one of the deadfalls literally torn to pieces. There had been a marten in this trap, but nothing remained of him except a few hairs that clung to the bark of the fall-log. The bait was gone, the bait house was broken apart, and the pieces strewn about in the most savage and wanton manner. The tracks were only a few hours old, and Connie was for following them and killing the marauder with the rifle. But 'Merican Joe shook his head: "No, we ain' kin fin' him. He climb de tree and den git in nodder tree an' keep on goin' an' we lose time an' don' do no good. He quit here las' night. He start in ag'in tonight w'ere he leave off. We go back, now, an' set som' trap w'ere he ain' be'n."

Retracing their steps to the first unmolested deadfall, the Indian set one of the beaver traps. But instead of baiting it, or setting it at the opening of the bait house, he carefully scooped a depression in the snow at the back of the house. Placing the trap in this depression so that it lay about two inches below the level of the snow, he carefully laid small clusters of needles from the pan outward so that they rested upon the jaws. This was to keep the snow from packing or freezing on the trap which would prevent it from springing. When the trap was completely covered the Indian took two pieces of crust from the snow and, holding them above the trap, rubbed them together, thus grinding the snow and letting it fall upon the needles until the whole was covered with what looked like a natural fall of snow. "De carcajo he com' to de trap at de back an' break it up," he explained as he stood up and examined his handiwork critically.

"I hope he tries it on that one," grinned Connie, as he followed the Indian who had already started for the next set.

This set was different, in that it was not made at any trap. The Indian paused beside a fallen log and with the ax cut a half-dozen green poles. These he cut into three-foot lengths and laid them one on top of the other in the shape of a three-cornered crib. Then he took from the pack some of the articles that had excited Connie's curiosity. An old coat, tightly rolled, was first placed within the enclosure of the crib. Then several empty tin cans were placed on top of the coat, and covered with an old scrap of canvas. On top of the canvas were placed the snowshoes that had been crushed by the bear. Four of the beaver traps were now set, one on each side of the crib, close to the wall and one on top of the snowshoes inside the enclosure. The traps on the outside were covered in exactly the same manner as the trap set at the deadfall, and the one inside was simply covered with an old worn-out sock.

"Where does the bait go?" asked Connie, as he glanced curiously at the contrivance.

"De bait she all ready. We ain' want no meat bait. De carcajo com' 'long, she see de leetle log house. She sniff 'roun' an' she say: 'Dis is wan cache. I bust him up an' steal all de t'ings.' An' so he go to bust up de cache an' de firs' t'ing she know she got de leg in de trap. Dat mak' him mad an' he jump 'roun' an' by-m-by anodder leg gits in odder trap, an' by golly, den he ain' kin git away no mor'!"