“I am convinced it was they who robbed our traps several times this winter, so that we had to change their location,” Sandy declared, indignantly. “And, when that brush was piled up against our cabin, that dark night, and fired, did we not find tracks that were never made by Indian feet? I seem to feel that we have not seen the last of those French trappers. And Pat O’Mara told me that, if ever I had to shoot to defend myself against either of them, to get the full value of my lead!”
“Well, let us hope that they will go elsewhere, and do their trapping,” said Bob, as he turned and left his brother. “I think it is a great pity that, with a string of trading posts all the way from the big lakes down to the sea, these greedy French from the North cannot let us alone here. They seem to want the earth. But I’ll wait for you at the second trap, Sandy. Be as quick as you can.”
Sandy made no reply, but hastened forward to where they had set the first trap. He was filled with thoughts of the stories he had heard connected with the Mississippi country, and he pictured in his mind the loveliest scene that could ever greet the eager eyes of a pioneer—game waiting to be shot and trapped; the earth so rich that it would grow bountiful crops upon being simply stirred; the fields glorious with myriads of wild flowers; and all to be had by simply reaching out a hand and taking possession, in defiance of the French, who claimed everything from the far North to the gulf.
He found in the trap a fine red fox, which he succeeded in knocking on the head without injuring the pelt. Laying his gun aside, Sandy started to reset the trap, believing that, as it seemed to be a lucky place, perhaps the mate of the fox might come along, and also step into the steel circle.
As he began his task, an accident occurred that had never happened to Sandy before in all his trapping experience, and probably never would again. In some manner, which he could not fully explain, in turning around to secure something, he managed to thrust his foot into the set trap, which he had quite forgotten.
There was a snap, and an acute feeling of pain that caused the boy to give a startled cry. His heavy leggings saved him to a great extent from the cruel teeth of the trap, for at that time the smooth jaws now in universal use had not come into vogue; but the boy knew he would have a sore ankle for some days because of his carelessness.
Sandy tried to get at the trap to release himself, and found that, because of the formation of the ground at that particular spot, it would prove a difficult task. He persisted in his efforts, however, and refrained from calling out to his brother, not wishing the more cautious Bob to learn what a foolish thing he had done.
He was still striving to squirm around so as to get at the double spring, and by pressure release his foot, when he heard a sound close by that riveted his attention. Looking up, what was the boy’s dismay to discover a creeping animal gradually drawing closer and closer to him.
It needed only that one look to tell Sandy that he was being stalked by one of the most dreaded animals of the forest, a gray panther, that had evidently scented the blood of the captured fox, and was bent on securing a supper.
