ugh sweeping, the floor was covered with clean sand,
and the broken window was boarded up so that the captives could not
escape. When this was done David started for home, and Don and Bert
went into the house to get ready for supper.

The next day was spent much as the preceding one had been spent. At
eleven o'clock seven more traps were ready for the field. Then the
mule and wagon were brought into use again, and the new traps were
distributed along the fence. When the boys came back they took time
to eat lunch, after which the coop was put into the wagon, and they
set out to visit the traps they had set the day before.

"There's nothing here," said Bert, as he drew rein in front of the
thicket in which the first trap was located. He could not see the
trap, but his ears told him all he wanted to know. If there had been
any quails in it they would have uttered their notes of alarm as soon
as they heard the wagon coming.

"No, there's nothing here!" said Don, after listening a moment. "I'll
scatter a little more corn about and make sure that the trap is all
right."

He got out of the wagon as he spoke, and while he was working his way
into the thicket he flushed a blue-jay, which flew into a tree close
by and scolded him with all its might. Don shied a stick at it and
kept on to the trap. It was down, and there was something in it which
fluttered its wings against the bars and made the most frantic
efforts to escape. Don knew it was not a quail, so he did not stop to
see what it was. He threw back the slide, thrust his hand into the
opening and when he clutched the bird received a severe bite from it.
"I have half a mind to wring your little neck for you," thought Don,
as he brought the fluttering captive, a beautiful red-bird, into
view. "Not because you have bitten me, but because you will make it
your business to come here and spring this trap every day. Red-birds
and blue-jays are perfect nuisances when a fellow is trapping, and I
wouldn't blame Dave for shooting every one he sees."

But Don did not injure the bird. He was a sportsman, and never made
war on game of this sort. He tossed the captive into the air and it
flew away out of sight.

Having set the trap again and scattered a little more corn about to
replace that which had been picked up by the birds, Don went back to
the wagon and Bert drove on down the field. They found the second
trap thrown, and the marks of little teeth on the ear of corn that
wa