Part 14 (1/2)

”There he goes again,” burst out Steve; ”I tell you, fellows, we're going to have a peck of trouble with this here inquirin' mind of Toby's.”

”G-g-go chase yourself!” blurted out the stuttering boy, indignantly.

”I'm only tryin' to g-g-get information at c-c-close quarters.”

”And you'll get it, all right,” chuckled Steve. ”You'll be satisfied, I reckon; but think of us, what we'll have to stand. Just you let that close quarters racket die out, Toby Jucklin.”

”Some of the animals are jet black,” remarked the trapper, ”and they fetch a better price than the striped skins.”

”Glory be!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bandy-legs.

”What's the matter with you?” demanded Steve.

”You don't mean to tell me they use the skins for furs?” Bandy-legs continued.

”Sure they do,” replied Steve; ”ain't that so, Uncle Jim?”

”They make splendid furs,” was what the trapper remarked. ”The striped ones are dyed, of course. And they have a way of removing any faint odor that happens to remain.”

”Faint odor!” echoed Steve, sniffing the atmosphere. ”I wonder if there ever is such a thing in connection with these awful beasts.”

”That shows you haven't read up about them, Steve,” remarked Owen. ”Why, there are a whole lot of skunk farms all over the Northern States.”

”You're fooling me, Owen,” declared Steve, reproachfully.

”How about it, Uncle Jim; am I kidding him?” demanded Owen, turning toward the old trapper, who was enjoying all this talk immensely.

”Heaps of skunk farms, yes, siree,” he replied, promptly. ”They soon get to know the man who feeds them and give him no trouble. He's a peaceable little critter, and only when he gets excited does he go to extremes.”

”Well, I want to give 'em all a wide berth,” Steve a.s.serted. ”And if I meet one in the woods I'm willing to let him have the whole path. I'd take off my hat and bow in the bargain, if I thought he wanted me to.

Because I've got a whole lot of respect for the skunk family. They're just immense!”

So they talked and jollied each other as they went on eating one of the ”bulliest suppers” they had ever sat down to, as more than one of the boys loudly declared.

The dogs had been brought in and were given their share from the remains of the venison that had been cooked, the balance of the hind quarter having been hung out in the frosty air.

All of the boys had taken a decided fancy to the dogs, and in return the intelligent animals seemed to reciprocate this friendly feeling.

Accustomed to sharing the cabin with the trapper at night as his only companions during the long winter months, they did not take kindly to the new rule that made them sleep out in a kennel while the boys were present. And when allowed inside they hugged the fire in a way that told how much they appreciated its cheery warmth.

They were lying there later on in the night and Trapper Jim had just mentioned that it must be time for him to take the dogs out, when old Ajax lifted his head and growled. Immediately little yellow Don did the same.

”What ails 'em?” asked Steve, as the dogs got up and stood there, the hair along their necks and backs rising up.

”Oh, I reckon they scent some animal prowling around outside,” remarked the trapper, making for the door.

”Good gracious! I hope now it ain't that same old skunk come back because he's changed his mind!” exclaimed Bandy-legs, glancing hastily around, as if to see where he could hide.

The trapper, however, seemed to know that there was no danger along those lines. He took down the bar, and, throwing open the door, stepped out.