But Trapper Jim was a wise man. He supposed that every one of the boys was fairly quivering with eagerness to be the one selected.
As he looked around at the five anxious faces the trapper scratched his head, as though unable to decide.
"It can't be did that way," he muttered. "They must draw lots for it, and the shortest straw wins out. Hear that, boys?"
"Yes, and it's all to the mustard," said Steve, keeping on the alert, and ready to pour in the contents of both barrels should the trapped bear give any evidence of freeing the clog.
"Then here goes."
With that the trapper fastened Ajax to a tree, and then, bending down, picked up a number of twigs. These he seemed to pinch off so that they were all of a size but one, which was shorter.
"Remember, boys," he said, as he mixed these in his hand, so that one could not be told from the others, "it ain't the longest pole that knocks the persimmons this time. The feller who gets the short straw has the chance. Take a pick, Steve."
Steve, of course, could not hold back. And while the dogs were jumping to the length of their leashes and barking madly, with the bear roaring an accompaniment as he tugged desperately at his chain, he drew a splinter of wood.
"Missed! Gee, what tough luck!" Steve exclaimed, in a chagrined voice, as he stared at his prize.
"Try your luck, next!" said Trapper Jim.