Carcajou at times travelled on three legs. "Got a thorn in your foot?" queried the Jay? solicitously.
"Toes are cold," answered Wolverine, shortly.
"He-a-weep!" laughed Whisky-Jack, sneeringly; "they were hot enough last night, when you called on François through the chimney. Whose toes are sore to-day, Mister Carcajou? And the fur is burnt off your back--excuse me while I laugh;" and the Bird gave vent to a harsh, cackling chuckle.
"Hello!" Carcajou exclaimed, suddenly. "I smell Castoreum; or is it Sikak the Skunk?"
When they came to the Lynx Snare, almost immediately, he circled around gingerly in the snow, examining every bush, and stick, and semblance of track; then he peered into the little stockade. "It's all right!" he declared; "that François is a double-dealing Breed. I have known him set a Snare like this for Pisew, and a little to one side put a Number Four Steel Trap, nicely covered up, to catch an unsuspicious, simple-minded Wolverine."
"Why don't you also say honest, modest, Wolverine?" derided Whisky-Jack.
"But that's a Snare for Pisew, right enough," continued Carcajou.
"It is!" added Black Fox.
"Watch me spring it!" commanded Carcajou, tearing with his strong jaws and stronger feet at the fastening which held down the bent poplar. Swish! And the freed sapling shot into the air, dangling the cord like a hangman's noose invitingly before their eyes. "Now if any one wants the Fish-head, he may have it," he added.
"Not with Castoreum Sauce," said Black Fox. Even Blue Wolf turned his nose up at it.