skin? One marten
more or less won't make much difference."

'Merican Joe continued to scowl. "No, one marten don't mak' mooch
differ', but we ain' goin' to git no more marten on dis trap line
_s'pose_ we ain' kill dat _carcajo_! He start in here an' he clean out
de whole line. He steal all de marten, an' he bust up de deadfalls. An'
we got to ketch um or we got got to move som' nodder place!" And in all
truth, the Indian's fears were well justified. For of all the animals of
the North, the _carcajo_ is the most hated by the trappers. And he has
fairly earned every bit of hatred he gets because for absolute malicious
fiendishness this thick-bodied brute of many names has no equal.
Scientists, who have no personal quarrel with him, have given him the
dignified Latin name of _gulo luscus_--the last syllable of the last
word being particularly apt. In the dictionaries and encyclopaedias he is
listed as the glutton. In the United States he is commonly known as the
wolverine. The lumberjacks call him the Injun devil. While among the
trappers and the Indians themselves he is known as the _carcajo_, or as
bad dog--which is the Indian's idea of absolute cussedness and
degeneracy.

Connie broke the silence that had fallen upon the two as they stared at
the empty trap. "Well, we won't move!" he cried. "There's no measly
_carcajo_ going to run me out of here! We'll get busy, and in two or
three days from now we'll have that scoundrel's hide hanging up on the
_cache_ with the lynx skins!"

The Indian nodded slowly. "Mebbe-so--mebbe-so not. De _carcajo_, she
smart. She hard to ketch."

"So are we smart!" exclaimed the boy. "Come on--let's go!"

"Ain' no good we go 'long de trap line. De trap she all be bust up. We
go back to de cabin an' git som' beaver trap, an' we start out on de
odder end an' back-track 'long de trap line. Mebbe-so de _carcajo_ ain'
had time to git over de whole line yet. Anyhow, we got to set plenty
trap for him."

Hastening back to the cabin, the frozen martens were thawed out and
skinned, and 'Merican Joe made up his pack for the trail. Connie
refrained from asking questions, as the Indian solemnly made up his
queer pack, but the boy resolved to keep his eyes open the following
day, for of all the things the Indian placed in his pack sack, there
was nothing that appeared to be of any use whatever except the six stout
beaver traps.

Daylight next morning found them at the end of the trap line which the