Lawrence glanced back to the spot where the bears had been. They had vanished. “This time,” he whispered, “we’ll get that old silver fox. We simply must.”
CHAPTER IV
THE CAPTURE OF OLD SILVER
Johnny felt his pulse quicken as he sped along over the ice. The silver fox had come out of the hole. There could be no doubt of that. Would he dodge back in again or would he start across the ice?
“If he starts!” the boy breathed.
He must not be too fast nor too sure. Last time he had muffed a glorious chance. Slowing up, he slid in behind a clump of elders and came to a standstill. There, gripping a shrub, he stood trembling like a butterfly ready for flight.
As for Lawrence, he was coming on more slowly. Naturally more cautious than his cousin, he had an eye out for trouble. That fat old mother bear might still be lurking among the ridges. He had not forgotten how she had come charging down upon them.
“Can’t take unnecessary chances,” he told himself. “Life is wonderful. I am sure that taking unnecessary chances is wrong. It is making light of God’s great gift to us—life.”
Ah, yes, it was good to live just now. For the first time in their lives his little family felt sure of having a home of their own. As he glided slowly along he thought of the summer’s struggle. At first it had been damp and bitterly cold. Then the sun had been hot and the mosquitoes had come in swarms.
Through all this they had labored on; father, mother, and these two stout boys. It was said that gangs of men would be along to clear patches of land and build cabins. To this they had not listened. “We came to make our own way,” they insisted. “We are pioneers. Pioneers must work.”
When garden and potato patches were planted they had started the cabin. Selecting, from near and far, trees that were dead but not decayed, they had built a cabin whose walls would not warp and shrink as would those built of green timber.