Chapter V
An Uninvited Visitor
“You’ll excuse me, boys,” observed Tubby, naively, “if I stop to tie my shoe lace. I’ll catch up with you right away, or hang on to your wake, which will answer just as well.”
Sim chuckled as though amused.
“Bless his heart,” he remarked to Ralph, who had not exactly understood, “Tubby has a natural prejudice against skunks. It was honestly earned, too.”
Then he rapidly went on to sketch the adventure that had taken place once upon a time when Tubby was green to the woods, telling how the other upon running across a skunk for the first time thought it a “cute” little animal just such as he wanted for a camp pet; and after trying to get it in a corner so as to pounce on it, Tubby wished he hadn’t—also how he was banished from active participation in the delightful times they had later on simply because the other fellows refused to associate with him.
All this amused Ralph greatly.
“Well, I admit that it’s mighty dangerous for any one to bother with skunks, for they are timid animals, and mistrust every one they don’t know,” he stated. “I move around among them without any trouble. They feed from my hand, and I’ve taken up several of them just as you would a tabby at home. I admit that eternal vigilance is the price of safety when near them. You must be on the alert continually, and never do anything to startle them.”
“Well, a bee man near our town told me bees were handled along the same lines,” Andy Bowles added. “Those who handle the frames full of honeycomb, and swarming with bees must be cool chaps. Smoking helps some, for bees seem to think the hive is in danger, and begin to load up with honey right away. It seems that when a bee is carrying all the honey it can stagger under it isn’t liable to get busy with its sting.”
They now arrived at the part of the big enclosure given over to the striped animals with the bushy tails and the small heads. Tubby stayed far back, and kept on the anxious seat all the time. No inducement could tempt him to join the others.
“I’m not immune, if you fellows are,” he called out, when they tried to coax him along. “I know when I’m well enough off, too, and some people don’t seem to understand that fine point. Don’t bother with me, boys; go ahead and investigate; but I hope you’ll be wise enough to let Ralph do all the handling of his pets. Ugh!”
So they left Tubby there to await their return. Ralph showed them through the skunk preserve, explaining many things connected with the curing of skins so that they would have a marketable value.
“You see, there’s getting to be a shorter crop of the best skins every year to meet a growing demand,” he proceeded, after the manner of one who had the points at his fingers’ ends from constant study. “That means commoner pelts have to take the place of those that are falling off. Many of these are muskrat and skunk skins, and even the common house tabby is called on to help tide over the shortage. What with a skillful use of dyes, and even the sewing of white hairs in black skins, they manage to deceive the public.”
He showed them how he could feed some of his queer pets. Tubby at a distance was holding his hands together, and looking very much distressed when he saw a dozen of the striped animals all around Ralph, and acting like chickens on the farm when grain was being thrown to them.
Later on, when the boys were thinking of turning away and continuing their investigations further, they heard a great outcry from near at hand.
“Hey! Ralph, everybody come quick, and chase this skunk away! He’s bent on making up to me, and I can see from the way he looks that he just knows I’m a hater of his species. Oh! please hurry and save me!”
Laughing at the frantic appeal in Tubby’s voice, they hastened toward him, to find that the fat boy in desperation had actually climbed a tree, while a very small specimen of the inmates of the corral was moving about below, now and then looking upward, as if wondering why he was not given something to eat, as usual.
They rescued Tubby by Ralph coaxing the “terrible beast” to move away. Tubby looked red in the face, and also seemed to be a little ashamed at having shown the white feather.
“Well, I admit it was a bad case of rattles with me,” he said, with a grimace; “but, then, there’s a reason. I’ve been there before, and I know that the smaller they are the more likely you may be to get them angry. But all’s well that ends well. I’m glad you’re done with this particular pen. Now show us your mink and otter, won’t you, Ralph?”
“I can show you where I keep them, and what I’ve done to induce them to feel at home and multiply,” replied the other, “but I doubt whether we catch sight of a single member of the community. They are that shy they seldom come out in the daytime. As to feeding them, all we have to do is to see that there are plenty of fish in the brook that runs through the lot.”
“But if that brook comes and goes, what’s to prevent your high-priced mink and otter from following it out?” inquired Andy, who never liked to puzzle over anything unnecessarily when the answer could be obtained simply by asking.
“Oh! we’ve fixed that by a regular barred gate at either end,” explained Ralph. “The water can escape, ditto very small fish; but we keep larger ones stocked in the stream; and those fur-coated fishers can always get a mess.”
“And I suppose,” suggested Rob, deeply interested, “that if you ever do think they’ve increased in number, and you feel like taking your toll of the bunch, you’ll have to set regular mink and otter traps in the water to catch them with?”
“That’s what it’ll amount to,” admitted the other, “but understand that I’m not building any great hopes of more than getting my money back on this mink and otter venture. I don’t believe any one has, so far, been very successful raising them artificially. Some animals, you know, will not breed in captivity. But I’m making the experiment, and later on will let you know how it turns out.”
“Show us how that water gate works, will you, Ralph?” suggested his cousin, who always liked to examine anything that excited his interest—Tubby had also been that way once, but since a bitter experience he had shown more commendable caution, and was ready to take some things for granted.
“Certainly, if you come this way with me,” the fur farmer replied. “Here’s the creek, you see, and in some of these little burrows among the rocks and in the earth the mink and otter lie in safety. Right now I warrant you more than one pair of bright eyes watches every move we make, though you couldn’t discover the animal if you had a field-glass along.”
In this fashion he continued to tell them many interesting things connected with his study of wild animal life; some of which were new even to Rob, who had had an extended acquaintance with such subjects ranging over a long experience. The subject was very fascinating to all of the scouts, even Tubby declaring that he was beginning to take quite some stock in the study of small game animals, “all but one kind that somehow don’t seem to appeal to me,” he went on to say, whereupon, of course, Sim had to hastily remark:
“Huh! some of the boys are still of the opinion that they do appeal to you pretty strongly, Tubby; but there, let it pass. I just couldn’t help saying it, you know.”
They saw the tracks of the timid mink and otter along the edge of the stream where they fished for their dinners daily, but did not catch even a fleeting view of a member of the little fur colony.
Coming to the high fence among the trees, they found where the brook passed out. The “gate” mentioned by Ralph was a well-built one, made of stout lumber, and with iron bars close together, between which the water could always pass, but no animal find either an exit or entrance.
“Sometimes, after a storm, we have to clear this grating,” Ralph told them, “for it catches and holds all sorts of floating stuff, such as dead wood and the like. So far it seems to answer our purpose. Our last census of the inmates showed that they were all here, and that there was a pair of whelps with one set of the mink—if that is what you call them, perhaps cubs, eh, Rob?”
“Well, I hardly know how to answer that,” confessed the other. “If I wanted to speak of them, I’d likely say baby mink, or youngsters. It would be a feather in your cap, Ralph, if you did succeed where so many others have fallen down. I’m sure we all wish you the best luck going.”
“That’s right!” declared Tubby, emphatically. “I admire pluck wherever I see it; and somebody has always got to be a pioneer in every movement that succeeds over many failures.”
“You see, the woods are pretty dense over in this section,” explained the fur farmer, “and there’s always danger that some wild beast may slip in here when Pete and myself are away, to make a haul of my property. It would be a hard blow if I came along here some day and found that my mink colony had been cleaned out.”
As though his words had been carried to hostile ears and aroused a storm of protest, at that very moment there came a growl so savage that it made Tubby tremble. He stared straight up into the tree from which the sound seemed to proceed, pointed a quivering finger, and gasped the one word:
“Wildcat!”