the logs, and, thanks to the hard and taper hoofs,
the trap had slipped off and been left behind, while the deer had sought
safer regions.

In the next trap they found a beautiful marten dead, killed at once
by the clutch of steel. The last trap was gone, but the tracks and the
marks told a tale that any one could read; a fox had been beguiled and
had gone off, dragging the trap and log. Not far did they need to go;
held in a thicket they found him, and Rolf prepared the mid-day meal
while Quonab gathered the pelt. After removing the skin the Indian cut
deep and carefully into the body of the fox and removed the bladder. Its
contents sprinkled near each of the traps was good medicine, he said; a
view that was evidently shared by Skookum.

More than once they saw the track of the big fox of the region,
but never very near the snare. He was too clever to be fooled by
smell-spells or kidney products, no matter how temptingly arrayed. The
trappers did, indeed, capture three red foxes; but it was at cost of
great labour. It was a venture that did not pay. The silver fox was
there, but he took too good care of his precious hide. The slightest
hint of a man being near was enough to treble his already double
wariness. They would never have seen him near at hand, but for a
stirring episode that told a tale of winter hardship.

Chapter 39. The Humiliation of Skookum

If Skookum could have been interviewed by a newspaper man, he would
doubtless have said: "I am a very remarkable dog. I can tree partridges.
I'm death on porcupines. I am pretty good in a dog fight; never was
licked in fact: but my really marvellous gift is my speed; I'm a terror
to run."

Yes, he was very proud of his legs, and the foxes that came about in the
winter nights gave him many opportunities of showing what he could do.
Many times over he very nearly caught a fox. Skookum did not know that
these wily ones were playing with him; but they were, and enjoyed it
immensely.

The self-sufficient cur never found this out, and never lost a chance of
nearly catching a fox. The men did not see those autumn chases because
they were by night; but foxes hunt much by day in winter, perforce, and
are often seen; and more than once they witnessed one of these farcical
races.

And now the shining white furnished background for a much more important
affair.

It was near sundown one day when a faint fox bark was heard out on the
snow-covered ice of the lake.