TRAPS FOB NIGHT PROWLERS

"Yuh see," remarked Obed, turning around as they drew near the first enclosure, where the parent foxes were confined behind the wire fencing, "I've just been adding a few finishing touches tuh this here trap scheme. I got a little idea while I was alookin' the ground over, and reckoned I could fix it up so there'd be a heap right good chance that a feller creeping around here o' a night would step into the contraption. I'll show yuh how I 'ranged it."

With that he led the way along a plain trail that seemed to be the easiest route up to the enclosure. Three times out of four a stranger, prowling around with meagre light to guide him, would be apt to follow that beaten track; and this was evidently what the shrewd Obed was counting on.

"Well, it's this way my little scheme is agoin' to work," he explained, after reaching a certain point. "See this rope—I throw it across a limb o' this tree. Yuh notice that it's got an easy runnin' slip-noose at the end, don't yuh? That I'm fixing right here, where there's a good chance the thief will put his foot in it as he takes this step I'm showing you."

He proved that he was right, and indeed it was really a difficult thing, after Obed had placed the noose just as he wanted it, close to the ground, and on little wooden crotches he had arranged there for the purpose, for any one to step across without getting his foot entangled in the rope.

"Well, let's reckon, then, he does get caught in the noose, and jerks it tight around his ankle," continued Obed, very much interested himself in what he was saying, and as Max quickly noticed, even neglecting to speak as he usually did, although he had shown this odd trait before. "What happens? I'll show you how it's going to work out, if everything runs as I've planned."

Accordingly, he picked up a heavy piece of wood that chanced to be lying close by, and which doubtless Obed had used before in order to test the accuracy of his figuring. This he inserted in the noose, and then gave it a hunch that not only tightened the rope but carried out the further purpose of the inventor.

Instantly things began to happen. The boys heard a queer rattling sound near by, and immediately the wooden "dummy" was jerked out of Obed's hands, to be drawn up until it struck against the limb of the tree fully ten feet above. Steve gave a whoop.

"My stars! but that worked like a charm, Obed, let me tell you. Greased lightning could hardly be quicker than the way you've arranged your trap. And what was all that rattling sound about? What's holding on to the other end of the rope, which pulled the log up on the run? I want to know, even if I ain't from Missouri."

The woods boy laughed as though quite pleased because his trap had worked well enough to call forth such words of praise from these new friends.

"Come over and see," he simply said.

They followed the line of rope, now taut, and resembling a huge "fiddle string," as Bandy-legs remarked, testing it as he passed along. It led them to the brow of an abrupt little descent, a sheer drop of perhaps twenty feet. Down this slope they followed the rope with their eyes and then discovered it was attached to a large and heavy barrel that could almost be called a hogshead, evidently something which had been used as a crate to convey a portion of the previous owner of the cabin's crockery ware thither when he moved up from town.

As the boys were no simpletons, they readily grasped the essential qualities of Obed's little scheme. It may have been original with him; and then again possibly he had borrowed the same from some book he had read; but, nevertheless, it struck them as pretty clever.

Not content with the heaviness of the big barrel, he had placed a number of stones inside so as to add to the swiftness of its flight down that declivity, once it was released. The rope acted as "starter," and upon being jerked, as must be the case, should any one get a foot caught in the noose, it released a stake that kept the heavy barrel poised there at the top of the descent. The consequence was that it would plunge downward almost as though making a sheer drop; the noose tightening about the leg or legs of the unhappy wight who had sprung the trap, he would be jerked off his feet and hauled up, head downward, to dangle there in midair, as helpless as a babe.

"Set it again, and let me try the trick, please, Obed," pleaded Steve, who seemed to be particularly charmed with the arrangement.

"I will if yuh help me git the barrel back up the hill again," replied the other. "Workin' all by myself I've had tuh take the rocks out each time before I could push the old thing back again tuh the top, 'cause she's some heavy, believe me."

Steve, yes, and both Bandy-legs and Toby also, hastened to comply with this reasonable request; and between them all the heavy barrel was slowly pushed up again until the stake held it poised there on the top of the sharp declivity.

Max stood and watched operations, not that he was unwilling to lend a hand also if necessary; but just then he wanted to observe Obed, and draw certain conclusions in which he, Max, seemed to take considerable interest.

Then Steve was given the wooden "dummy" which had worked so like a charm, and instructed how to manage it, so that it would take the place of a man's lower extremities. Steve did so well that he, too, by a little jerk displaced the delicately arranged "trigger" as Obed called the stake, and caused the barrel to pitch furiously down the steep slope.

Steve had not been quite quick enough to snatch his hands away, after working the trick. The consequence was that when the billet of wood was plucked from his grasp with such swiftness, and drawn instantly aloft, Steve staggered, and might have fallen only that Obed clutched hold of him.

"Wow! did you see that?" gasped Steve, staring upwards at the dangling "dummy" as though he could easily imagine it a kicking, squirming human figure. "And say, it worked as fine as silk, didn't it? Obed, you've done yourself proud with this little game. If that thief ever gets a foot in your slip-noose his goose will be cooked, that's as plain as dirt."

He actually seemed to be very proud of the fact that he had acted as master of ceremonies, and set the trap off so successfully. Nothing would do but that Bandy-legs and Toby Jucklin in addition should be given the same distinction; so twice more was the barrel rolled up the slope, and on both occasions it worked to a charm.

"It seems to be next door to perfect, for a fact," asserted Max, upon being appealed to for his opinion; but he did not seem to "hanker" after trying it out on his own account.

Finally the weighted barrel was again pushed up to its appointed position and held there with the stake. When the proper time came, it would be easy for the inventor to arrange the slip-noose, and set the trap.

"What, is there anything more to be shown?" asked Steve, when Obed asked them to follow him a little further.

A few minutes later and they were gravely examining an odd arrangement which consisted for the most part of a very heavy log. Steve looked it over critically, and then ventured to give his opinion:

"Looks a whole lot like a deadfall trap, such as they use in most places to get bears in," he went on to say.

Obed chuckled as though pleased at the answer to his look of inquiry.

"Just what it is built on the pattern of, Steve, if yuh want to know it," he admitted. "The only difference is that in the regular deadfall the log comes down and smashes the poor bear by its sheer weight. Now, I've tried to rig my trap up so it'll simply make a prisoner o' the creeper. I'll show yuh just how it works. I've got a dummy here, too, that I use to test things. Yuh see there's always just a little chance it might go wrong; and I don't want to get caught, and made a prisoner, with nobody around to let me loose."

With that he demonstrated his idea. The trap was sprung just as he meant it should be, and if the dummy had really been a man, he would have found himself caught tightly in the log trap, with but a poor chance of ever getting out again, unless external assistance came along.

"Any more tricks like these two up your sleeve, Obed?" asked Steve, after they had further examined the deadfall, and Max had pronounced it skillfully constructed.

"Well, I'm afraid I reached the end o' my rope when I hatched up this second idea, Steve," the other remarked, in a sort of apologetic tone. "Of course I might think up a few more if I reckoned it'd be necessary. But I've got a hunch that one o' the lot is agoin' tuh grab that thief, providin' he does come around here. Besides, when yuh git right down to brass tacks, thar isn't as much danger o' my bein' robbed in the night-time, as in the day."

"And why not, Obed?" further asked Steve; "I'd think that was the very time you'd feel scariest, when it was dark, and you couldn't see if anybody was prowling around the farm."

"Stop an' think how foxes have holes in the ground, into which they c'n burrow when scared the least mite," explained Obed, readily, "and yuh'll see how hard it'd be for a stranger to lay hands on them. Now, in the daytime, if they came along, with me away from the place, a man with a rifle could knock over my pets as easy as turnin' his hand. But, all the same, I've fixed my traps. For one thing I'd like to find out jest who the thief is."

Max noticed what emphasis he put on that last remark. He could see the customary twinkle in Obed's eyes give way to a sterner look; as though he had brooded more or less over this same subject. And Max himself nodded his head as though he might in a measure understand just how Obed felt.

So they returned to the house. Bandy-legs at least rejoiced because with all those clever contraptions set, and waiting to give the intended thief a warm reception, it did seem as though there would be hardly any necessity for them to waste their precious time in sitting up and keeping watch, when they would be so much better off enjoying "balmy sleep," as he called it; and all sleep was along that order, according to the mind of Bandy-legs.

Max and Steve trailed along well in the rear. This may have simply happened, but Steve twice stopped the other, and pointed out something he wished Max to see; so possibly the delay was intentional on his part. At least, he presently made a remark that would make it seem so.

"It certainly looks as if Obed was a pretty ingenious maker of snares, that's sure, Max?" Steve was saying, significantly.

"That's right, he is, Steve, and we must give him great credit for it, even if his traps fail to catch a thief in the act."

"I was just thinking, Max," pursued the other, meditatively, "that it's evident this same Obed must have inherited that strain from a long line of trapper ancestors or progenitors; wouldn't you think so, too?"

Max looked at his companion queerly, and smiled as he made reply.

"You may be right, Steve, of course, but it strikes me Obed has an original streak of genius all his own, which doesn't have to depend on any inherited trait. Things are not always what they seem in this world, you know."

"Lookey here, Max, you've struck a scent which you don't think best to share with your boon companions, that's as plain to me as two and two make four. You've come to think a little the same way as Bandy-legs, perhaps, and suspect Obed of being more than he lets on? Is that it, Max? Do you really believe he's playing some sly trick on us? Is that yarn about Mr. Coombs all moonshine? Does this fur farm belong to some company, that Obed is working for? I wish you'd tell me what you've got in your mind, Max."

"I expect to a little later on, Steve, never fear," he was assured. "I'm not more than half certain even now that it can be so, and I never like to make a mess of things. Besides, you know, it wouldn't be just fair to Obed to have us all suspecting him of playing tricks. Just go on as you've been doing. Take my word for it, this new friend we've made is all to the good, and will never turn out to be the wrong sort of fellow."

He started on after saying this, and Steve followed, looking very much puzzled, and shaking his head as though he could not catch the right idea. Shortly afterwards, however, Steve had apparently forgotten his newly awakened suspicions, for he was entering into the general conversation as heartily as ever. Still, Max noticed, with amusement, that from time to time Steve would follow Obed hungrily with his eyes, and on such occasions that double line of wrinkles, expressive of bewilderment, might again be seen upon the boy's forehead.

Toby and Bandy-legs were only too glad to take the preparation of supper into their hands completely. They felt a certain amount of pride in their culinary skill, and wished to show their host the full list of their accomplishments as camp cooks. Besides, they believed that among their abundant stores they carried a number of things which Obed failed to possess; and of course a new dish was apt to be a pleasant surprise to the woods boy.

The supper thus concocted and carried out was certainly a genuine triumph. Steve openly congratulated the two efficient cooks on their "masterly skill"; though Max laughingly warned the others to "beware of the Greeks bearing gifts," for there might be a base motive hiding behind all that glib praise. Steve protested that he meant every word of it; but then it was well known that Steve hated to do any cooking himself, and hence was fain to laud the efforts of others in that line, doubtless in the hope of encouraging them to "keep right on doing it."

After the bountiful meal had been enjoyed, and every one declared that it would be utterly impossible to eat another single bite, for fear of the consequences, they spent a very enjoyable evening alongside the fire that burned on the hearth, at one end of the cabin.

Obed, as he had promised, told them some of the strange things he had heard from the old sea captain, who, during his life on the Seven Seas, had met with many most remarkable adventures well worth repeating.

Obed addressed them in his own language, and Max often smiled as though some of the quaint expressions used by the young narrator amused him; though perhaps there may have been still another reason for his quiet chuckling. Steve caught him at it several times, and eyed the other in perplexity, as though he suspected Max of adding secretly to his fund of knowledge, which thus far he obstinately declined to share with his mates.

Later on, when they began to feel sleepy, Obed said he would go out and make sure his traps were set right. Max offered to keep him company, and together they sauntered forth, to be followed with a wistful look from the envious Steve, who was muttering to himself:

"I wish I knew what Max has got in that mind of his right now. I'm dead certain he's figuring out some sort of thing that's going to give the rest of us a big surprise, when he sees fit to spring it on us; but for the life of me I can't guess what it can be. Oh! shucks! what's the use of bothering any more about it? If it turns out worth while, Max will tell us in good time; and if he's on the wrong scent, why, he'll just drop the game, and no harm done."

After a while the others came in again, saying both traps were set, and there did not seem to be any need of their losing sleep on account of possible unwelcome visitors. Obed showed how the concealed bunks could be made ready, and, all of them were loud in their expressions of satisfaction over having such comfortable lodgings for the night. They mentally blessed the memory of the said Mr. Coombs, whose forethought and inventive ingenuity had planned all these wonderful adjuncts of the little forest lodge.