"But tomorrow we'll both get busy, and see what we can bag," remarked Tom, when the other mentioned this depressing fact.
There were a few crackers left, as well as some cheese, upon which they had subsisted at "noonings" on the way, not wishing to bother lighting a fire, and spending time in cooking anything, when in such haste to get located in their quarters.
Altogether they had a good satisfying meal, and Felix declared after it was over that he felt many times better.
"I'm going to smoke one pipe, just to give a flavor to the old shack where Sol burned many a pound of the weed in his day," remarked Tom, settling back comfortably, with a block of wood to support him.
"And what's in the wind then?" asked his cousin.
"I might try my hand at taking our first pelt," chuckled the other.
"Oh! yes, to be sure, I'd about forgotten that he's got a fur worth keeping. And Tom, every time we look at it, won't we just remember what a welcome he gave us on our arrival. To be sure it was only in growls; but then, that's the only language a poor old cat's got. But when you say you mean to try your hand, you're only joking, because I wager you took off many a pelt when out with Old Sol Ten Eyck."
"Of course, and I hope I haven't forgotten the lessons he taught me; for there never was a better trapper known than Sol in his prime. He's brought in the skins of every kind of animal in the country, from a black fox, down to muskrat hides, when you couldn't hardly give these last away. But nowadays, with the big demand for all kinds of furs, and a shortening supply, the muskies are fetching a price that makes it pay a fellow to gather them."
"That's what I understood from a big fur dealer," Felix went on to remark. "What's going to happen when all the seals and foxes and mink and otter are gone, nobody knows. He said that people would either have to quit wearing any kind of furs; or else be satisfied with muskrat, or something that never will be extinct."
"Look at the wolf, for instance," said Tom. "Time was, when it hardly paid to skin one on the ranch, when we shot them. How is it now? Why, they've found that those skins make the finest kinds of warm coats for men driving in automobiles; and the consequence is the price keeps going up right along. Mr. Wolf has a rough road ahead of him in the next ten years. But nobody will cry if he's wiped out, because he's a bad lot, and sure death to young calves in the herd."