“And I suppose,” suggested Rob, deeply interested, “that if you ever do think they’ve increased in number, and you feel like taking your toll of the bunch, you’ll have to set regular mink and otter traps in the water to catch them with?”
“That’s what it’ll amount to,” admitted the other, “but understand that I’m not building any great hopes of more than getting my money back on this mink and otter venture. I don’t believe any one has, so far, been very successful raising them artificially. Some animals, you know, will not breed in captivity. But I’m making the experiment, and later on will let you know how it turns out.”
“Show us how that water gate works, will you, Ralph?” suggested his cousin, who always liked to examine anything that excited his interest—Tubby had also been that way once, but since a bitter experience he had shown more commendable caution, and was ready to take some things for granted.
“Certainly, if you come this way with me,” the fur farmer replied. “Here’s the creek, you see, and in some of these little burrows among the rocks and in the earth the mink and otter lie in safety. Right now I warrant you more than one pair of bright eyes watches every move we make, though you couldn’t discover the animal if you had a field-glass along.”
In this fashion he continued to tell them many interesting things connected with his study of wild animal life; some of which were new even to Rob, who had had an extended acquaintance with such subjects ranging over a long experience. The subject was very fascinating to all of the scouts, even Tubby declaring that he was beginning to take quite some stock in the study of small game animals, “all but one kind that somehow don’t seem to appeal to me,” he went on to say, whereupon, of course, Sim had to hastily remark:
“Huh! some of the boys are still of the opinion that they do appeal to you pretty strongly, Tubby; but there, let it pass. I just couldn’t help saying it, you know.”
They saw the tracks of the timid mink and otter along the edge of the stream where they fished for their dinners daily, but did not catch even a fleeting view of a member of the little fur colony.
Coming to the high fence among the trees, they found where the brook passed out. The “gate” mentioned by Ralph was a well-built one, made of stout lumber, and with iron bars close together, between which the water could always pass, but no animal find either an exit or entrance.
“Sometimes, after a storm, we have to clear this grating,” Ralph told them, “for it catches and holds all sorts of floating stuff, such as dead wood and the like. So far it seems to answer our purpose. Our last census of the inmates showed that they were all here, and that there was a pair of whelps with one set of the mink—if that is what you call them, perhaps cubs, eh, Rob?”
“Well, I hardly know how to answer that,” confessed the other. “If I wanted to speak of them, I’d likely say baby mink, or youngsters. It would be a feather in your cap, Ralph, if you did succeed where so many others have fallen down. I’m sure we all wish you the best luck going.”