It had been set in a certain little gully, where the boys had discovered the tracks of several mink, together with their holes. The tiny stream that had trickled through this same gully in the preceding fall, was now a rushing torrent, and the trap had lately been set high up on the bank, just in front of a particularly inviting opening, where many tracks told of its being a favorite haunt for the wandering males of the furry tribe he hunted.
Yes, it was a mink he had captured, and really the largest and finest of the whole winter’s catch. Bob felt pleased to make this discovery, for every pelt which they could gather meant more comforts in the Armstrong home.
The mink seemed unusually fierce, and put up a savage fight when Bob started to dispose of him; but the young trapper would not be denied, and he quickly put an end to the animal’s sufferings.
As a usual thing the traps for mink and muskrats were set in such fashion that, after being caught, the animals would jump into the water, and be drowned by the weight of the trap; so that it was seldom they found one alive that had to be disposed of in this manner.
Having reset the trap, Bob sat down to wait for the coming of Sandy, and, while sitting there, he drew something out of an inner pocket of his hunting tunic, which he examined with considerable interest, as well as with many shakes of the head, that told of bewilderment.
The object was a soft and pliable piece of clean birch bark, upon the brown side of which were traced several rude drawings, such as a child might make. This had been done with some sharp instrument, possibly the point of a knife.
Bob Armstrong knew well that these crude figures of men, campfires, streams and trails were not intended to express the idle whim of some white child, beginning to draw the things he saw around him.
Bob had looked upon Indian picture-writing before now; indeed, a young Shawanee brave, named Blue Jacket, whose life he had once saved, and whose friendship the brothers prized very much, had shown them how to read these symbols, by means of which the red men communicated after their own fashion, just as the palefaces did by putting all those queer little signs in a line, and calling it writing.
This was the second time that Bob had found a birch-bark letter left mysteriously at the cabin. No one knew whence they came; but, when the characters were deciphered, on each occasion it was found that some one was warning them against danger that hovered over their heads.