The old man had a tear in his eye. And both Owen and Max felt drawn to him more than ever.
"Thank you ever so much, Uncle Jim, for telling us all this," Owen said, in a soft tone that caused the trapper to look fondly at him as he went on:
"Well, I've spoken to you boys about things that Have been lying deep down in my old heart buried for many a year. But just forget it. And let's see what Luck has got in store for us to-day. I'm going to get out a couple of my special fox traps."
Something about the way he said this as well as the eager flash that shot athwart his rugged face caused Max to cry out:
"Fox traps! You've got some reason for saying that, Uncle Jim."
"Maybe I have, son," remarked the trapper, smiling more broadly at this evidence of astuteness on the part of the boy.
"Is it the silver fox?" demanded Max.
"Well, I thought I had just a glimpse of the little darling yesterday when out with the boys," observed Trapper Jim.
"But you didn't mention it before now—I didn't hear any of them say a word about it," Max went on.
"That's right. I thought I'd keep it quiet. But what's the use when such sharp eyes keep tabs on every move I make. Besides, you two might like to watch how I set a trap to catch a fox. Because they're about as smart as any animal that walks on four legs."