ne far when they were startled by a cry from Pincher, a
sharp cry of pain. He stood stock still, his brown eyes almost starting
from their sockets with agony and fear. It proved that he had stumbled
upon a fox-trap which was concealed under some dry twigs, and his right
fore-paw was caught fast.

Here was a dilemma. The boys tried with all their might to set poor
Pincher free; but it seemed as if they only made matters worse.

"What an old nuisance of a dog!" cried Peter; "just as we'd got to goin'
on the right road."

"Be still, Peter Grant! Hush your mouth! If you say a word against my
dog you'll catch it. Poor little Pincher!" said Horace, patting him
gently and laying his cheek down close to his face.

The suffering creature licked his hands, and said with his eloquent
eyes,--

"Dear little master, don't take it to heart. You didn't know I'd get
hurt! You've always been good to poor Pincher."

"I'd rather have given a dollar," said Horace; "O, Pincher! I wish 'twas
my foot; I tell you I do!"

They tried again, but the trap held the dog's paw like a vice.

"I'll tell you what," said Peter; "we'll leave the dog here, and go home
and get somebody to come."

"You just behave, Peter Grant," said Horace, looking very angry. "I
shouldn't want to be _your_ dog! Just you hold his foot still, and I'll
try again."

This time Horace examined the trap on all sides, and, being what is
called an ingenious boy, did actually succeed at last in getting little
Pincher's foot out.

"Whew! I didn't think you could," said Peter, admiringly.

"_You_ couldn't, Peter; you haven't sense enough."

The foot was terribly mangled, and Pincher had to be carried home in
arms.

"I should like to know, Peter, who set that trap. If my father was here,
he'd have him in the lock-up."

"Poh! it wasn't set for dogs," replied Peter, in an equally cross tone,
for both the boys were tired, hungry, and out of sorts. "Don't you know
nothin'? That's a bear-trap!"

"A bear-trap! Do you have bears up here?"

"O, yes, dear me, suz: hain't you seen none since you've been in the
State of Maine? I've ate 'em lots of times."

Peter had once eaten a piece of bear-steak, or it might have been
moose-meat, he was not sure which; but at any rate it had been brought
down from Moosehead Lake.

"Bears 'round here?" thought Horace, in a fright.

He quickened his pace. O, if he could only be sure it was the right
road! Perhaps they were walking strai