“Most silent creature in the world.” The moose-trapper’s voice was low. “And one of the most harmless. It seems strange that anyone should wish to kill such an attractive wild thing. And yet, thousands pay large prices for the privilege of shooting them! It’s up to the younger generations to be less cruel.”
“Girls don’t wish to kill wild things,” said Jeanne.
“That’s right. Most of them seem to have a high regard for the life of all creatures,” the moose-trapper agreed. “They have their part to do, though. They can teach the boys of their own neighborhood and especially their own brothers to be more humane. We—
“Look!” he exclaimed. The quality of his whisper changed. “Down there is the trap. See that large square made of boards that seem to hang in the air?”
“Yes, yes!” Jeanne replied eagerly.
“That’s the door to the trap. The moose springs the trap. You see there’s a narrow corral. It’s half full of birch and balsam boughs. The moose smells these. He is hungry. He goes through the door, munches away at the branches, at last pulls at one. This drags at a string and down goes the door. He’s a prisoner.
“But a happy prisoner,” he hastened to add. “There are ten moose in the big corral. When we got them they were little more than skin and bones. Now they are getting fat. We feed them well.”
It is doubtful if Jeanne heard more than half that was said. Her eyes were upon a brown creature that moved slowly through the thin forest below. “He’s going toward the trap—our moose,” she was saying to herself. “Now he’s only fifty yards away. And now he walks still faster. He’s smelled the bait in the trap. He—
“What will happen to those who are trapped?” she asked quite suddenly.
“Probably be taken to a game sanctuary on the mainland where there’s plenty of moose feed,” the trapper said.