to cut fir boughs, with which to thatch the roof and sides of the hut,
and make a bed. He held the hedgehog up by the string, and we walked
down to the pond, and along the edge of it.

"There's tracks enough, Ben. Must be game here. I'll scoop out a little
snow, and you open the trap, and lay it in the hollow. Now, we'll cover
it with twigs and leaves, to hide it. Cut up a rabbit, and lay the
pieces on the twigs for bait. Bring me that log over there, and I'll
fasten it to the chain for a clog. He'd gnaw, or pull his foot off, if
we tied the trap to a tree. He'll haul the clog along, but he won't get
many miles with it. Now we'll drag the hedgehog round, and the burnt
quills will make a strong scent on the snow. That will do. We'll go on
and pull the hedgehog through the snow behind us. When the animals
strike that trail, they'll be apt to follow it to a trap."

We set all our traps along the edge of the pond, at quite a distance
from each other; and at the last trap, cut up the hog, and baited the
trap with it.

When we got back to camp, we found the roof and sides of the hut well
thatched with boughs, and a good thick layer of them on the ground for a
bed. The boys had collected a lot of wood, and piled it up near by. In
front of the hut was a fire, at which Martin was baking some rye and
Injun bread, and frying a large mess of pork.

When we had eaten our supper, it was solid comfort to sit in our hut,
after our long day's work, to look at the fire blazing in front, to feel
the heat, and watch the smoke curl up through the tree. On the further
side of the fire they had built up a wall of green logs, so that the
heat was thrown into the hut. We were snug and warm.

[Sidenote: JOHN McNEIL]

"Boys," said McKinstry, "when we get through with this war, you must
come to the Amoskeag Falls, and visit your old friends. We've got some
fine men there,--one's a great wrestler. I don't think your Jonas Parker
could have stood up very long against him. His name is John McNeil. He
is six feet six inches high, and used to be strong as a bull. He is a
North of Ireland man, and had a quarrel with some big Injun over there,
who came along on horseback, and struck at him with his whip. John
pulled him off his horse, gave him a pounding, and had to leave the
country. He settled at the Falls, and no man, white or red, could stand
up against him for a minute. His wife, Christie, is a good mate to him,
a big, brawny woman. One day a