Mike loped over to his traps that afternoon, and, having found the large one in good order, he baited it and arranged it so deftly that not one bit of the iron showed through the twigs and leaves.
As he expected, the thaw began that night and the temperature became higher each day until the trees seemed about to burst into blossom.
Mike didn't visit the trap the first day of the thaw, but on the afternoon of the second day he hurried out to cross the forest in the direction of his traps. Halfway there, he stopped and looked at some tracks in the soft slushy snow.
"Ha! Mike in time for him. Him big bear. Him hungry an' come see camp, but smell meat in trap—ha!"
Mike followed the tracks eagerly and found they led him almost directly to the place where his long-waited-for prize was caught.
The bear was exhausted from struggling to escape from the trap and Mike soon put an end to her pain with a rifle-bullet.
She was an immense black bear which must have come some distance for food. Mike looked her over carefully and nodded his head with understanding as he spoke to himself while loosing the spring on the trap.
"Her got cubs at home in her cave. Her hungly an' hunt eats for her babbies. Mike mus' hunt for babbies an' carry home to feed."
The trap was set again, and with satisfaction that his whole winter was not wasted in a civilized life—proof—the bear he was dragging back to camp—Mike appeared at the clearing just as the children wondered what had become of their play-mate.
Mike dragged the improvised carrier made of boughs, with the black bear laid out upon them, into the camp where everyone gathered to behold the trophy of the Indian's trap. They felt of the thick fur, the still warm nose, and examined the sharp claws that could be so cruel.