“It’s been all trapped over an’ over, years back, when beaver pelts was high,––an’ by Injuns, likely, who just cleaned out everythin’,––an’ broke down the dams,––an’ dug out the houses. But the little critters is comin’ back. Furder up the valley there’s some good ponds now!”
“And now they’ll be cleaned out again!” exclaimed the Boy, with a rush of indignant pity.
“Not on yer life!” answered Jabe. “We don’t do things that way now. We don’t play low-down tricks on ’em an’ clean out a whole family, but jest take so many out of each beaver house, an’ then leave ’em alone two er three years to kinder recooperate!”
As Jabe finished they came in sight of a long, rather low dam, with a pond spread out beyond it that was almost worthy to be called a lake. It was of comparatively recent creation, as the Boy’s observant eye decided at once from the dead trees still rising here and there from the water.
“Gee!” he exclaimed, under his breath. “That’s a great pond, Jabe!”
“There’s no less’n four beaver houses in that 87 pond!” said the woodsman, with an air of proud possession. “That makes, accordin’ to my reckonin’, anywheres from thirty to thirty-six beaver. Bye and bye, when the time comes, I’ll kinder thin ’em out a bit, that’s all!”
From the crest of the dam all four houses––one far out and three close to shore––were visible to the Boy’s initiated eye; though strangers might have taken them to be mere casual accumulations of sticks deposited by some whimsical freshet. It troubled him to think how many of the architects of these cunningly devised dwellings would soon have to yield up their harmless and interesting lives; but he felt no mission to attempt a reform of humanity’s taste for furs, so he did not allow himself to become sentimental on the subject. Beavers, like men, must take fate as it comes; and he turned an attentive ear to Jabe’s lesson.
“Ye know, of course,” said the woodsman, “the steel trap we use. We ain’t got no use fer the tricks of the Injuns, though I’m goin’ to tell ye all them, in good time. An’ we ain’t much on new-fangled notions, neether. But the old, smooth-jawed steel-trap, what kin hold when it gits a grip, an’ not tear the fur, is good enough for us.”
“Yes, I know all your traps, of all the sizes you use, from muskrat up to bear!” interrupted the Boy. “What size do you use for the beaver?”