"You'll have to excuse me," said Steve, shuddering.
And yet before three days went by Steve had been induced to taste the musquash, as Trapper Jim prepared them, and found the dish so good that afterwards his tin pannikin was shoved forward for a second helping as often as any of the others.
On the way home, after all the traps they had brought had been set, Bandy-legs noticed a tree that stood up black and grim, as though a fire had destroyed it at some time.
"Yes," said Jim, when his attention was directed that way, "quite a few years ago we had a big fire up this way that did heaps of damage. And I've noticed that the conditions this fall are just about the same as that year. Why, we've hardly had any rain at all in the last two months."
"The woods must be pretty dry then, I should think," Max remarked.
"Dry as tinder," replied the other. "This little snow will all disappear, and unless we get a heavy fall soon, it wouldn't surprise me if some careless campers or deer hunters let their camp fire get into the brush when the wind is blowing great guns. Then there'll be the mischief to pay. But I hope it won't be any one of you boys."
Each and every one of them solemnly declared that he was firmly resolved to be unusually careful.
Finally they reached the cabin.
In the afternoon Old Jim skinned the three musquash, and showed the boys how he fastened the hides on stretching boards, which would cause them to retain their shape while they dried.
"We never put skins in the sun or near a fire to dry," he observed, seeing that most of the boys were anxious to learn all they could. "The best way is to stand 'em in the shade where the breeze can play on 'em. But, of course, you mustn't let the pelts get wet while they're drying."