Part 13 (2/2)

”My trap's sprung!” was the rather surprising information Bandy-legs vouchsafed in return.

”The d.i.c.kens you say!” exclaimed Owen, suddenly sitting up in the darkness. ”Now, how d'ye know that fact? Did anything give a yelp?”

”No,” continued the other, eagerly; ”but you see, Owen, before I went to sleep I had Max tie a string to my leg and the other end to that loop.

It was fixed under the root of a tree; and if the trap went off, why, don't you see, the string'd give me just a sweet little yank, like it wanted to tell me to come around and take my game out.”

”And did you feel that same yank?” demanded Steve, sitting up suddenly.

”Right now, before I woke Owen up. Oh, it was a sure enough jerk, all right! What'll we do about it?” demanded Bandy-legs.

”Let's crawl out and see what happened,” remarked Owen, setting his actions to correspond with his words, and being followed by his two companions.

”What is it?”

That was Max speaking, and they could see his head poked out from the partly open flap of the smaller tent. Evidently he must have been awake at the time, or else the sound of murmuring voices aroused him; for Max always declared that he was a very light sleeper.

”Bandy-legs here says his trap is sprung,” remarked Owen. ”He tells us you fixed a string to his leg and the other end to the loop. Well, that just gave him word something had happened.”

”We'll soon find out,” was all Max remarked, as he proceeded to crawl all the way out of his tent.

Stepping over he picked up the lantern, and a match that had been left handily near by. And so it took but a fraction of a minute for them to possess a light that would answer all purposes.

The four of them then approached the place where Bandy-legs had set his wonderful snare, which he had tested so well himself to start with.

”Huh! I don't see anybody swinging around here!” remarked the always skeptical Steve.

”Neither do I,” added Owen, in a tone of disappointment.

”But see, fellers, the old trap, she's gone off!” exclaimed Bandy-legs, in a thrilling tone. ”Didn't I tell you I felt a pull that woke me up?

It worked, just you bet it did, now.”

The hickory sapling was indeed standing up almost straight, with the loop dangling part way down; but the snare was devoid of any victim.

Max looked around as best he could with such a poor light.

”I don't see the first sign of any tracks here,” he remarked.

”Shucks, the chances are Bandy-legs might have kicked in the night, and that was enough to set the loop free!” Steve declared.

”He couldn't do that,” answered Max; ”I fixed that string in such a way there was no danger of it happening. But I rather think some fox in hunting around set the thing off, but didn't get caught in the spread loop. It was set for bigger game, you remember, boys.”

”Well, I'm going back to my blanket again,” said Owen. ”It feels chilly out here, and there's no use staying.”

Even Bandy-legs seemed to have lost all faith in his wonderful snare; for he declined to stay long enough to put it in working order again.

Twice now it had gone off, and there could be no telling what the third result might be if he ventured to try it again, which he would not.

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