g as they approached. After
a dozen fine fat mallards had been brought to bag, Bert declared
that it was a sin to shoot any more, and took his place at the oars,
while Don sat in the stern and steered.

"These ducks tell us that it is time to go to our shooting-box," said
the latter. "We always wait until they begin to come in before we
make up our party, you know."

"We ought to go over there and fix up a bit first," said Bert. "If we
don't find anything in our trap, let's go over there and see how
things look. We have had some splendid times in that little
shooting-box, haven't we?"

They certainly had, and they found much pleasure in living them over
again in imagination. While they were talking about the many happy
hours they had spent there, they reached Bruin's Island, and Don
brought the canoe around and ran the bow upon the beach. The hounds
jumped out, and running about with their noses close to the ground,
began to show the same signs of excitement that they had exhibited
on the day of their first visit to the island. The boys knew more
now than they did then, and consequently were not in such haste to
declare that it was a bear the dogs scented. It might be Godfrey
Evans; and that he or somebody else had been there since they left
was very evident. Their trap had been sprung by the aid of a long
pole, which was still fast under the heavy roof; the lever and rope
had been carried away; and the bag of corn which Don had hung upon
the sapling had also disappeared. Don was provoked, and laid up in
his mind a few sharp words, to be addressed to Godfrey on the
subject, should they ever happen to meet again; but he had very
little to say. The boys had been thoughtful enough to bring an axe, a
piece of rope and another small bag of corn with them, and, although
they had no assurance that their labor would not be wasted, they set
the trap again and started for home.

"If Godfrey did that," said Don, "he must have swam the bayou, unless
he has a boat hidden away in the bushes somewhere, which is not
likely. If it was summer now, he would probably spring that trap
every day, just to keep us from catching that bear; but the weather
is getting frosty, and he'll not relish many more cold baths. I don't
think he will trouble us that way any more."

When they reached the mouth of the bayou, Bert, who was steering,
directed the canoe across the lake, toward the point on which the
shooting-box was located. During a paus