"What about steel traps?" asked Upton. "I had an idea that most trappers used those almost altogether these days."
By way of reply Alec dragged out from under one of the bunks a clanging mass of steel. "Heft it," said he briefly, passing it to Walter.
"My, but that's heavy!" he exclaimed. "What does it weigh?"
"Nineteen pounds," replied Alec. "Tell me, how would ye like to pack three or four of those in addition to a lot of smaller traps for ten or fifteen miles?"
"Not for me!" declared Upton. "I begin to see the why of the deadfalls. It's easier to build a few of those than to lug these heavy things around. I didn't suppose they were as heavy as this. Are all of 'em like this?"
"No, there are some that weigh only a little over eleven pounds, but those are for small bars. I don't no ways favor 'em myself because, ye ken, I never yet have found a way of being certain what size bar would be stepping in one, leastways not until he was caught. A big feller will sometimes get out of the smaller trap, but a little feller never gets out of the big trap. So I sets only the big ones. This is a No. 5, and big enough for any bars around these parts. There's a bigger one made for grizzly bar and lions and tigers and such like critters, but that weighs forty-two pounds. We've got two of these No. 5's to set in the spring. If I was in good bar country, where the critters are plenty, I'd use more of these, but as long as they ain't plenty and I'm after other fur I'd rather use the deadfall. In the first place it kills the critter, and if he's caught you know right where to find him. He's right there. But if he gets caught in one of these things he may be a couple of hundred yards away and he may be in the next county, which is mighty inconvenient, 'specially if ye've got a lot of traps to tend to."
"How's that? I thought you fastened the traps." Hal was plainly puzzled.
"Sure we fasten 'em," returned Alec, "but do ye no see that if it was to anything solid like a tree the critter would be breaking the trap or the chain, maybe, or tearing himsel' loose? So we cut a log small enough at one end for the ring on the end of the chain to just barely slip over it and down to the middle where it is fastened with a spike. The clog is six or seven feet long and of hard wood. Then when Mr. Bar gets caught he has nothing solid to pull against to tear himself free. He marches off with nineteen pounds of trap and the clog dragging from his foot. The clog catches in the brush and between trees and usually he disna get very far, because the heavy drag tires him. Besides that, every time he's pulled up short it must hurt like the mischief and take the heart out of him. Sometimes we find where he has stopped to fight the clog. Once in a while a swivel breaks or something else gives way and he gets rid of the clog, but still has the trap fast to his foot. Then he's likely to dig out for parts unknown. I've known a trapper to camp two or three nights on the trail of a bar that had gone off with a trap before he could catch up with the critter. Mostly they will go a ways and then make a bed, lie down a while, get uneasy and move on to do the same thing all over again. Sometimes they won't lie in the bed after they've made it, but move on and try again."
Sparrer's eyes were bulging. "Do youse mean dey really make a bed same as us?" he asked.
"Surest thing you know," replied Pat. "When a bear dens up for the winter he makes himself comfortable. Does it when he's traveling, too. Don't know how he got wise to the danger of rheumatiz from sleeping on the bare ground, but he seems to be on all right. Breaks a lot of brush and makes a regular bough bed. Sometimes he uses rotted wood when it is handy and brush isn't. Oh, he's a wise proposition, is Mr. Bear. If he once gets nipped in a trap and gets away it is a smart trapper who can get him in another."