There was no audacious bobcat around to worry them that night. Steve had indeed, as Owen said, "laid the jabberwock low," when he discharged both barrels of his shotgun at once.

They were all under obligations to Steve. Every time that lame shoulder of his gave him a more severe twinge than usual he could, figuratively speaking, of course, shake hands with himself.

It is a great thing to be a public benefactor. There was Bandy-legs, for instance, who, much to his own inconvenience, had shown Trapper Jim and the rest just how easy it would be for some animal to drop down the wide-throated chimney during the absence of the cabin's owner and play havoc within.

The panic excited by the squatter skunk had been another lesson. And in consequence Trapper Jim, aided and abetted by Bandy-legs, who was a pretty clever hand at making things, had arranged a contrivance that worked much after the manner of a grating over the top of the chimney.

This, while allowing the smoke to escape freely, put up the bars against the admission of any would-be intruder, even a squirrel.

It would do temporarily. Trapper Jim said that later on when he borrowed that big buckboard again and transported his lively guests to the town and the distant railroad, he had it in his mind to secure a sheet of that heavy close-woven wire netting, such as was used in stable windows and for many other purposes. It allowed a free circulation of air, and yet prevented the entrance of sneak thieves.

So on this night Bandy-legs could go to sleep in peace on the floor, he having given up the bunk to the next one on the list.

If he woke up in the night and raised his head to find the fire burning low, he need not imagine every grotesque shadow in the dimly lighted cabin to be a fierce animal that had crept in while they slept.

When day came again they laid out their programme as usual. Of course, Uncle Jim, having started his season's work, could not neglect his traps. Every day when the weather allowed he must trudge the rounds and see what Fortune had sent him.

Besides, a humane trapper wishes to end as quickly as possible the torture of any creature that has been caught by the leg in one of his steel contraptions.

"It's a cruel enough business at the best," Jim Ruggles told the boys as he sat and spoke of his past experiences, "and often I've been sorry I ever took it up. But there must be trappers as long as women will demand rich furs in the winter season. My only satisfaction is that I've been kinder toward the little animals of the woods than most brutal trappers would be."

"But, however did you come to take up such a queer profession in the beginning, Uncle Jim?" asked Owen that morning, as they got to talking about the many years the old man had spent in this way.

Owen had discovered, before now that that Jim Ruggles was really a man of education, having been a college graduate.

He smiled at the question, did the old trapper.

"Oh, there were a lot of things combined to send me to the woods," he said, musingly. "First of all was my intense love for all the Big Outdoors. Seemed like I could never get enough of it. The more I saw of the forest, the more I felt drawn to it. I guess I had the woods hunger from boyhood. Max, here, knows what it is."

"I think I do," remarked the one mentioned. "I feel the craving come over me at times and have hard work to resist."

"Well, take my advice, son, and fight it off," remarked Trapper Jim. "Anyhow keep it in subjection. The world needs you. There's plenty of work for such as you in the busy marts of men. Don't allow yourself to ever dream of spending your whole life lost in the wilderness like I've done. What can I look back to but a life that's been wasted, so far as being useful to my fellowmen is concerned? A little run to the woods now and then to renew your vigor and draw in new strength—let that be all."

"But you said there were other reasons why you came here, Uncle Jim," persisted Owen.

At that the old man actually laughed.

"I suppose while I am at it," he said, "I might as well make a clean sweep and confess all. Well, I was a foolish young man at the time, you see, and took it to heart because a certain young lady I thought heaps of wouldn't accept me. But, then, my health was nothing to boast of in those days, and doctors had said it would be a good thing if I could spend a year up here."

"And you did?" continued Owen.

"Been here ever since," replied the trapper.

"And you don't look weakly now, Uncle Jim."

"I should say not," laughed the other, as he stretched his muscular arms above his head. "The open air, free from all disease germs, such as abound in cities; the long tramps; the freedom from worries; and, above all, the plain food and regular hours built me up wonderfully. Perhaps, after all, I did the right thing, because I'd have been dead long ago if I remained among the city dwellers."

"And, how about the heartless girl—did you ever see her again, Uncle Jim?" asked Owen, with a boy's freedom of speech.

Again the trapper laughed and then sighed.

"I never saw her again, son," he replied. "Years later I heard she married but I couldn't tell you whether his name was Smith or Brown. Then came the news that Susie had died, leaving one child. Sometimes I'm seized with a sort of yearning to look that boy up, and perhaps do something for him, just because I cared for his mother. But I never have, because before I get started it begins to look foolish to me."

The old man had a tear in his eye. And both Owen and Max felt drawn to him more than ever.

"Thank you ever so much, Uncle Jim, for telling us all this," Owen said, in a soft tone that caused the trapper to look fondly at him as he went on:

"Well, I've spoken to you boys about things that Have been lying deep down in my old heart buried for many a year. But just forget it. And let's see what Luck has got in store for us to-day. I'm going to get out a couple of my special fox traps."

Something about the way he said this as well as the eager flash that shot athwart his rugged face caused Max to cry out:

"Fox traps! You've got some reason for saying that, Uncle Jim."

"Maybe I have, son," remarked the trapper, smiling more broadly at this evidence of astuteness on the part of the boy.

"Is it the silver fox?" demanded Max.

"Well, I thought I had just a glimpse of the little darling yesterday when out with the boys," observed Trapper Jim.

"But you didn't mention it before now—I didn't hear any of them say a word about it," Max went on.

"That's right. I thought I'd keep it quiet. But what's the use when such sharp eyes keep tabs on every move I make. Besides, you two might like to watch how I set a trap to catch a fox. Because they're about as smart as any animal that walks on four legs."

Soon afterward the boys started out with the trapper. Steve, feeling his lame shoulder, concluded to rest up for a day, while Bandy-legs confessed that he much preferred doing a number of things about the cabin, perhaps catching a few pickerel in the little pond not far away, as Trapper Jim kept a supply of live minnows on hand to be used as bait when fishing with "tip-ups" through the ice later on.

So Max, Owen, and Toby saw how the two traps were set for the black fox, whose pelt is the one known as silver fox, and by long odds the most prized of all furs, sometimes one fine skin fetching thousands of dollars.

They found another mink caught, besides a number of muskrats. And in the last trap was a beautiful silky otter. Trapper Jim seemed highly pleased when he looked at his various prizes for the day.

"Seems like you boys must have brought me good luck," he declared.

"I hope we have," laughed Owen.

"I never hit such a nice mess before so early in the season," continued the trapper, "and it wouldn't surprise me a great deal now if I caught that splendid silver first shot out of the box."

"S-s-say, wouldn't that j-j-just be g-g-great," said Toby.

"Well, the traps are set and it's been pretty nigh a morning's work, because there's so much to do about trapping a smart fox. But, boys, let's hope that to-morrow or some other day it'll all be paid back, and I'll be able to show you what a beautiful skin the black fox sports."

"But you've taken them before, you said, Uncle Jim," Owen observed.

"Sure, two or three times, and pretty good ones at that," replied the trapper, with a chuckle. "But you know, it's always the same old story in this business."

"What's that?" asked Max.

"The skins you've captured in the past never compare with those you see on the backs of live animals. The best is always to come, eh, Max?"

"J-j-just like it is in f-f-fishing," declared Toby. "The big one in the w-w-water b-b-beats the one you've l-l-landed. I used to think the w-w-water just m-m-magnified 'em."

"No, it's the hope we have. Possession dulls the interest. You boys know that the apples next door always taste better than those you have in your own orchard."

The three whom Trapper Jim addressed just looked at each other and laughed. Nobody answered him. There was really no need of words. Jim knew boys from the ground up, and loved them, too. He had once been a boy himself.

On the way back home he told them many interesting things connected with the shrewdness of mink and otter, and how smart the trapper had to be to outwit them.

"That's one of the pleasures of the business," he went on to say; "this continual matching of a man's wits against the instinct and cunning of these same clever little varmints. Why, a single old mink has kept me guessing pretty much all winter and changing my methods a dozen times."

"But I reckon you got him in the end, Uncle Jim," said Max.

"What makes you believe that, son?"

"Oh, because you never give up once you've set your mind on a thing," replied the boy, admiringly.

"Well, I don't knuckle down very often, that's a fact," chuckled the trapper; "though there have been occasions. That girl episode was one, you remember, Max."

"But you got the sly old mink, didn't you?" persisted Owen.

"Yes, I got him when I had just about exhausted every scheme I could think up," answered the trapper; "and let me tell you, boys, that day when I carried him to the cabin I felt as big as the President of the United States."

Another night of comfort followed. Trapper Jim said it began to feel real lonely, now that the bold bobcat no longer came prowling around trying to steal things.

But the boys enjoyed having a good rest undisturbed by any sudden clamor.

This time only Max and Steve accompanied the trapper. Owen found that he had wrenched his ankle, and had better take a day off, and Toby had arranged to try the pickerel with Bandy-legs, who had caught a few on the previous day.

Steve had heard about the traps set for the "silver," and he wanted to be along if there was anything doing.

When they arrived near the first trap it was untouched. But the second they found sprung and empty.

"Oh, he was caught and broke away. It's too bad!" cried Steve, pointing to traces of blood and some shining black hairs on the jaws of the Victor trap.

But Trapper Jim was saying angry words to himself.

"Caught the finest silver I ever set eyes on only to have him snatched by a sneak of a pelt thief!" and he pointed as he spoke to the imprint of a shoe in the soil.