At sundown, the boys went out into the woods to set the traps. A beautiful mother deer and her fawn were drinking at a brook. Crickets sang under old bark, and frogs on the edge of the pond. And birds were singing their low sweet evening songs.
[Illustration: The edge of the pond]
The little hunters went straight on from trap to trap. But they found no fox or wolf or wildcat in any of them. They were sorry. One trap was sprung.
"Something has been here, and the meat is gone," said Pineknot. "We must set the trap again."
Thorn quickly bent down a little hickory, and tied a string to the top. Then he raised one end of a big rock and put a loop of the string around it.
Pineknot was busy setting a trigger under the rock. All this time, Thorn stood by, playing with the string, pulling it and letting it go, pulling and letting go.
"Listen," he said, "it sings like the wind." Pineknot had a stick in his hand and, for fun, set it against the string. When Thorn let the string go, the stick was shot out of Pineknot's hand, and against his bare body. He yelled, and Thorn opened his eyes in wonder.