“Yes, the Injuns’ methods was complete. They seemed to have the idee there’d always be beaver a-plenty, no matter how many they killed. One way they had was to mark down the bank holes, the burrows, an’ then break open the houses. This, ye must understand, ’s in the winter, when there’s ice all over the pond. When they’re drove from their houses, in the winter, they take straight to their burrows in the bank, where they kin be sure of gittin’ their heads above water to breathe. Then, the Injuns jest drive stakes down in front of the holes,––an’ there they have ’em, every one. They digs down into the burrows, an’ knocks Mr. Beaver an’ all the family on the head.”
“Simple and expeditious!” remarked the Boy, with sarcastic approval.
“But the nestest job the Injuns makes,” continued 95 Jabe, “is by gittin’ at the brush pile. Ye know, the beaver keeps his winter supply of grub in a pile,––a pile of green poles an’ saplings an’ branches,––a leetle ways off from the house. The Injun finds this pile, under the ice. Then, cuttin’ holes through the ice, he drives down a stake fence all ’round it, so close nary a beaver kin git through. Then he pulls up a stake, on the side next the beaver house, an’ sticks down a bit of a sliver in its place. Now ye kin guess what happens. In the house, over beyant, the beavers gits hungry. One on ’em goes to git a stick from the pile an’ bring it inter the house. He finds the pile all fenced off. But a stick he must have. Where the sliver is, that’s the only place he kin git through. Injun, waitin’ on the ice, sees the sliver move, an’ knows Mr. Beaver’s gone in. He claps the stake down agin, in place of the sliver. An’ then, of course, there’s nawthin’ left fer Mr. Beaver to do but drown. He drowns jest at the place where he come in an’ couldn’t git out agin. That seems to knock him out, like, an’ he jest gives up right there. Injun fishes him out, dead, puts the sliver back, an’ waits for another beaver. He don’t have to wait long––an’ nine times outer ten he gits ’em all. Ye see, they must git to the brush pile!”
“HE DROWNS JEST AT THE PLACE WHERE HE COME IN.”
“I’m glad you don’t trap them that way, Jabe!” said the Boy. “But tell me, why did you bring me away out here to this pond, to tell me all this, when you could have done it just as well at my pond?”
“I jest wanted the excuse,” answered Jabe, “fer takin’ a day off from cruisin’. Now, come on, an’ I’ll show ye some more likely ponds.”