Part 12 (1/2)

”S-s-sure t-t-thing,” added Toby, seriously.

”Max, haven't you got a plan?” asked the owner of the cabin, turning toward the other eagerly, as though he guessed that if they found help at all it would be in this quarter.

”I was just thinking of something,” replied the boy, smiling.

”Yes, go on,” Trapper Jim continued.

”We couldn't coax him out, and if we tried to frighten the little rascal it'd be all day with our staying in that cabin again while we boys are up here. But perhaps he might be made to feel so unpleasant in there that he'd be glad to move off.”

”Good for you, Max; I can see you've got an idea,” cried out Jim, approvingly.

”I don't think skunks like smoke any more than any other wild animals!”

Max ventured.

”Smoke!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Steve. ”Hallelujah! Max has caught on to a bully good idea. Let's smoke the little beggar out. Everyone get busy now.”

”Hold on,” said Trapper Jim, catching Steve by the sleeve again; ”go slow.”

”Yes, go mighty slow,” complained Bandy-legs. ”You know well enough, Steve Dowdy, that I can't smoke at all. There's no use of my trying, because it makes me awful sick every time.”

”Listen to that, would you!” laughed Steve. ”The simple believes we're all going to get pipes and blow the smoke through some c.h.i.n.ks in the cabin walls. Cheer up, old fellow, it ain't quite as bad as that.”

”When we've got some stuff that will burn,” continued Max, ”I'll climb up on the roof, set fire to it, and drop it down the chimney. Then after it gets a good start I'll follow it with some weeds Uncle Jim will gather, and which he knows must send out a dense smoke after I've clapped a board over the top of the chimney flue.”

”Bravo!” cried Owen, so loud that the chained dogs near by started barking.

”A very original scheme,” said Trapper Jim, patting Max on the back. ”And the sooner we start in to try how it works, the better.”

”I've got only one objection,” Steve spoke up.

”Well, let's hear it,” demanded Owen, frowning.

”I think Max ought to let Bandy-legs run that part of the business,”

Steve went on to say, ”he knows more about chimneys than all the rest of the push put together. He's examined 'em from top to bottom inside.”

”Oh, rats!” mocked the one upon whose unwilling head all these high honors were being heaped.

”I object,” spoke up Toby, bound to have his say. ”B-b-bandy-legs never c-c-could resist the t-t-temp-tation to d-d-drop in himself. And think what'd h-h-happen if the s-s-skunk saw him comin' out of the f-f-fireplace a-whoopin'.”

”Let's get the stuff to burn, lads,” said Trapper Jim, who certainly enjoyed hearing the boys chaff each other in this way. ”And everybody keep away from that side of the house where the window stands open.”

They were not long in finding what they wanted.

”Make this up in a little bundle, boys, so I can drop it down quick after I've set a match to it,” and Max gathered the dry stuff together as he spoke, waiting for one of the rest to tie it with a cord.

”And this other I'd drop down loose like,” said Trapper Jim, as he held up the bunch of half-dead weeds he had collected. ”These give out the blackest smoke you ever saw, and if you shut off the draft after they get going good and hard, nothing living could stay long in that cabin.”

”That's the ticket!” remarked Steve, enthusiastically.

He certainly did enjoy action more than any one of the chums. Steve was happy only when there was ”something doing,” even though the source of excitement lay in a miserable little highly scented skunk that had taken a liking to Jim's cozy cabin and seemed ready to remain there indefinitely.