Part 17 (1/2)

”When are they coming?” asked Frank.

”They intended to come in the fall,” answered Archie, ”but father has more business on his hands than he expected, and they may not be here before the holidays; but I couldn't wait.”

”I'm glad you didn't,” said Frank. ”You are not going home before spring, are you?”

”No,” said Archie, ”I'm going to stay as long as you will keep me.”

Frank was overjoyed at this, and, if he had not been in the house, he would have given, as he said, ”a yell that would have done credit to an Indian.”

But, before going further, we must say a word about Archie's companions--we mean his dogs. One of them, that answered to the name of Sport, was as fine a fox-hound as one would wish to see. He was a large, tan-colored animal, very fleet and courageous, and was well acquainted with all the tricks of his favorite game, and the boys often boasted that ”Sport had never lost a fox in his life.” The black fox, which had held possession of Reynard's Island so long, was captured by Frank and his cousin, with the a.s.sistance of Sport, after a chase of three hours. Lightfoot--for that was the name of the other--was an English grayhound. He stood full three feet high at the shoulders, and his speed was tremendous. He was young, however, and knew nothing about hunting; but he had been taught to ”fetch and carry,” and, as he learned very readily, the boys expected plenty of sport in training him.

After supper, Archie's trunk was carried into the ”study,” and the boys busied themselves in taking out its contents. The clothing was all packed away in the bureau; and then came Archie's ”sporting cabinet,” as he called it--a fine double-barreled shot-gun, which was hung upon the frame at the foot of the bed; a quant.i.ty of ammunition, a small hatchet, powder-flasks, shot bags, and a number of other things, which were stowed away in safe places.

At length Archie drew out two fish-poles, neatly stowed away in strong bags, and one of them proved to be the one about which Archie had written. This was placed away in one corner, and Frank promised to mend it immediately.

”See here,” said Archie, as he drew out two queer-looking implements; ”I have been acting on the suggestion of Uncle Joe Lewis.”

”What are they?” inquired Frank.

One of them was a thin rod of steel, about three feet in length, very pointed and sharp at the end the other looked very much like a fish-spear, only the ”tines” were smaller and sharper.

”They are spears,” said Archie, in answer to Frank's question.

”So I see; but what use can you put them to?”

”This,” said Archie, taking up the rod of steel, ”is a mink-spear.

Last winter we lost a good many minks, when, if we had had an instrument like this, we could have secured them easily enough. You know that sometimes you get a mink into a place where you can see him, but, if you go to work to chop a hole large enough to get a stick in to kill him, he will jump out before you know what you are about. You will remember a little incident of this kind that happened last winter--that day we had such good luck. We were following a mink up the creek on the ice, when Brave suddenly stopped before a hollow stub, and stuck his nose into a hole, and acted as if there was a mink in there; and, you know, we didn't believe there was, but we thought we could stop and see. So we cut a hole in the stub, and, sure enough, there was a mink, and, as good luck would have it, we had cut the hole close to the place where he was, and we thought we had him sure; and, while Harry Butler went to cut a stick to kill him with, I chopped the hole a little larger, so that we could see him plainer, when, all of a sudden, out popped the mink, and, before we could say 'scat,' it was under the ice.”

”Yes,” said Frank, ”I remember it very well; and, I guess, there were some mad boys around that place, somewhere.”

”Yes,” said Archie, ”I was provoked because it was all my fault that we lost him. If we had had this spear, we could have killed him easy enough. We wouldn't be obliged to cut a hole larger than an inch square, and no mink I ever saw could get through that. And this,” he continued, taking up the other instrument, ”is a muskrat-spear. The way to proceed is this: Go to a muskrat's house, and, with an ax, cut a chunk out of the top, directly over where they sleep.”

”And, by the time you get that done,” said Frank, with a laugh, ”the muskrats will be out of your way.”

”I know that; they will undoubtedly start off the first blow you strike, and swim to some breathing-hole; but in a quarter of an hour they will be sure to return. While they are gone, you will have plenty of time to cut the chunk, and, after taking it out, place it carefully back, in such a manner that it can be removed instantly; then, if there are any other houses near, serve them in the same way. Then, in half an hour or so, take your spear and go to the houses, making as little noise at possible, and let your companion lift out the chunk suddenly, and you be ready to strike. Father says he has seen Uncle Joe Lewis catch half a dozen in one house, in this way, very frequently. He always spears the one nearest the pa.s.sage that leads from the house down into the water, and this will prevent the others from escaping.”

”I don't much like the idea,” said Frank.

”Neither do I,” said Archie. ”It will do well enough for those who make their living by hunting; but, if I want to hunt muskrats, I would rather wait until the ice breaks up, in spring; I can then shoot them quite fast enough to suit me, and the sport is more exciting.”

One morning, about a week after Archie's arrival, they arose, as usual, very early, and, while they were dressing, Frank drew aside the curtain, and looked out.

”I say, Archie,” he exclaimed, ”you've got your wish; it's a first-rate morning to go trout-fis.h.i.+ng.”

Archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond of trout-fis.h.i.+ng, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to ”take a trip to Dungeon Brook,” and they commenced pulling on their ”hunting and fis.h.i.+ng rig,” as they called it, which consisted of a pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel s.h.i.+rt.

While Archie was getting their fis.h.i.+ng-tackle ready, Frank busied himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.

Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their India-rubber coats--for Frank said it would rain before they returned--they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles in their hands, and started out.