"Huh! I don't see anybody swinging around here!" remarked the always skeptical Steve.
"Neither do I," added Owen, in a tone of disappointment.
"But see, fellers, the old trap, she's gone off!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, in a thrilling tone. "Didn't I tell you I felt a pull that woke me up? It worked, just you bet it did, now."
The hickory sapling was indeed standing up almost straight, with the loop dangling part way down; but the snare was devoid of any victim.
Max looked around as best he could with such a poor light.
"I don't see the first sign of any tracks here," he remarked.
"Shucks, the chances are Bandy-legs might have kicked in the night, and that was enough to set the loop free!" Steve declared.
"He couldn't do that," answered Max; "I fixed that string in such a way there was no danger of it happening. But I rather think some fox in hunting around set the thing off, but didn't get caught in the spread loop. It was set for bigger game, you remember, boys."
"Well, I'm going back to my blanket again," said Owen. "It feels chilly out here, and there's no use staying."
Even Bandy-legs seemed to have lost all faith in his wonderful snare; for he declined to stay long enough to put it in working order again. Twice now it had gone off, and there could be no telling what the third result might be if he ventured to try it again, which he would not.