“You’re on, Rob,” he replied. “Pete heard the critter screeching over in the woods last night. Then this morning he found where it had entered my preserves, and he thinks it must have got away with one of my fox pups, for he saw signs of blood and fur on the ground. But, anyhow, whether that’s so or not, we’ve got to get after Mr. Cat, and keep it up till we bag him. There’ll be no peace as long as he hangs out around my fur farm.”
“Will Pete go out and try to shoot this one like he did the last?” asked Tubby, remembering the fresh skin that had been fastened to a stretching board, and hung on the shady side of the cottage to dry in the air away from the sun.
“He’ll keep on the move right along, with his gun on his shoulder,” explained Ralph. “But his running across the first rascal was a big piece of luck. This time I’ll have to try and fix a trap for the beast. Since there’s no time like the present, I think I’ll get busy now. Who wants to go up with me?”
There was a unanimous assent, showing that all of them felt a deep interest in this part of the proceedings. So, leaving the farmhouse, they strolled along in the direction of the fur farm, away off at the upper part of Mr. Jeffords’ extensive property holdings.
Pete went with them, and on the way detailed once more, for the benefit of the scouts, how he had heard the screech of the cat not far from break of day. He had known that something far out of the common was taking place down at Wyoming, for he had seen the flame in the sky, and even caught something of the clamor that accompanied the fire; but his duty was to stay and guard Ralph’s valuable property, so Pete had resisted the temptation to start toward town.
In return, the boys described some of the wonderful sights that had come their way while watching the town burning. Pete was also informed concerning the fortunate inspiration that had come to Rob, following out which the dynamite had been used to baffle the fire fiend. Ralph it was who told most of this, apparently much to the confusion of Rob, who several times tried to throw the praise on the shoulders of the one who had piloted the car back and forth, laid the explosives without a hitch, and certainly merited a big share of the successful outcome.
Once they were at the cottage where Pete held forth, Ralph began to overhaul a number of rusty traps which he apparently had not touched for some time.
“Three winters ago,” he told them, “I used to do quite a good deal of trapping, and learned a whole lot about the habits of such wild animals as we have around this section of the Adirondacks. Then I got that fur-farm fever, and read up all the articles I could find about the raising of black foxes, and such things. Well, after that I didn’t care to trap common stock, and so I haven’t done a thing at it since. So my traps look pretty seedy; but they’ll work, all right. Pete, the first chance you get, give these things a good oiling. No use having them go to the scrap heap for nothing.”
He picked out a certain trap, and said it would answer their purpose.
“It must be set outside the boundaries of my enclosure,” Ralph continued, when Tubby had suggested that one of the foxes or mink might be caught, “and I’m depending a whole lot on Pete to show me the right place. The cat will likely come back again tonight, and follow the same path to the high fence. We’ll set the trap now, because even in the daytime a hungry cat often starts out to get a meal.”