A week passed without special incident.
Piper, Robson and Heydon also made the acquaintance of the trapper, and all the hunters spent an evening in the cabin across the lake.
It became known that Yardsley had a fine collection of furs, which he intended to take to town very shortly. This fact had been ascertained by Charlie Piper, who, for purposes of speculation, wished to purchase a number of skins. But the price offered was too low to suit the trapper.
At the appointed time, Bob Somers tapped on the cabin door.
"Glad ter see you, cap'n!" exclaimed the woodsman, heartily, holding out his strong, sinewy hand. "In two shakes of a lamb's tail, I'll be ready."
"Think we'll have snow before long?" asked Bob.
Yardsley glanced out of the window at a sullen, lowering sky. "Snow—an' plenty of it," he announced. "An' lucky if it ain't a blizzard. Never seen one out here—eh, cap'n?—No?—Wal, a fair-sized northwester oughter satisfy yer fur a while—talk about wind and snow—it's fierce, an' no mistake."
"We might get snowed up."
"'Tain't at all unlikely."
Yardsley now rapidly led the way toward the creek which Bob and his companions had previously followed. Once there, he moved with more caution.
"Ter be a good trapper, a man has ter be powerful particular," he said. "Wild critters is certainly knowin'. Yer got ter understand 'em, an' l'arn their ways. I've got traps out fur minks, beavers, otter, muskrats an' foxes."
"Which are the hardest to catch?" asked Bob.
"Otter, p'r'aps! Minks is easier, bein' as they're sich hungry beasts, an' will take a chance when others might git scared off. Be careful, cap'n, we're comin' ter a trap, now."
At a convenient place, Yardsley led the way up the bank, avoiding with great skill the various obstacles with which the ground was strewn. Still keeping near the watercourse, they soon reached a confused heap of branches and logs.
"Right on that big log, cap'n."
"I don't see anything but a lot of twigs and bushes," said Bob.
"It's there, all right," chuckled Yardsley. "But it has ter be kep' out of sight. Wait here, cap'n."
The trapper went cautiously forward, stepping around the log, from the top of which the snow had been partly blown away.
"Nary a thing," he announced, after a moment's inspection.
"Better luck at the next one, perhaps," said Bob.
"I ain't a-worryin'—we'll git back on the ice."
They followed the winding stream for some distance, when Yardsley again slackened his pace.
"Easy, cap'n!" he exclaimed. "'Round here is regular otterville. See that there hole in the ice? Well, the critters has used it ter come out on shore. So I sinks my trap, an'—"
"And what?"
"Wal—I'll show yer in a minute—if I've struck luck."
From back of a mass of underbrush close by, Yardsley pulled a stout stick curved at the end. This he pushed through the hole in the ice, and a grunt of satisfaction escaped his lips.
With a couple of vigorous pulls, he brought to the surface a fine large otter.
"How's that fur one?" he remarked, as he disengaged the animal from the trap and laid it in the ice.
"It's a whopper," said Bob, enthusiastically, "and what a beautiful bluish gray coat. Don't they kill lots of fish, John?"
"A powerful number, cap'n. An' brings 'em ashore ter eat. The little rascal is awful wasteful, too, sometimes leavin' 'em 'most untouched."
The trapper rebaited the trap, which was attached by means of a chain to a stone, and lowered both in the water again.
"Where are we going now?" asked Bob.
"Follow the stream fur a piece. I've got more traps along here."
John Yardsley returned the stick to its hiding-place, then, as they started off, began to talk about the habits of the various animals.
"Powerful knowin' critters," he observed. "Take beavers, which lives along rivers an' ponds, for instance. A hull lot of these critters will git together an' build houses of mud, stones an' sticks. Their teeth are very hard and sharp, an' they don't have much trouble cuttin' all the wood they want. Then, if the water ain't right, they dam it up with the same stuff as the huts is made of."
"Isn't the entrance under water?" asked Bob.
"Allus! So that other critters can't git at 'em. In the spring, they come out, an' ramble off; an' mebbe it's autumn before they says ter each other, 'It's time ter git back ter them huts of ourn an' fix 'em up fur the winter.'"
"Muskrats build places pretty much the same, only smaller," said Bob.
"Yes, but martens lives in the deepest parts of the woods, while fishers an' minks hang out along streams an' marshes. I've seen a fisher a-sittin' on a stone, lookin' in the water, an' waitin' fur his dinner ter pass by. All of a sudden, he went ker flump—there was a splash—an' yer can bet he got his fish."
After a short pause, Yardsley continued, "But here we are, cap'n, at another trap."
This proved to be along the bank, and cleverly concealed in the midst of a tangled growth. But although it had been sprung the animal had managed to get away.
The next one, however, held captive a good-sized mink.
"Not so bad, an' we may get some more yet," commented Yardsley. "I'm powerful afear'd we're goin' ter have some pretty tough weather," he added, with a look at the sullen sky.
"I say, John," asked Bob, with a sudden thought, "didn't you put up a sign over by Lake Wolverine?"
Yardsley grinned. "Jokin' is a little failin' I have, as I told you afore," he said. "You'll run acrost several of 'em 'round these parts. I'm powerful glad, cap'n, that you fellers didn't git mad."
"I thought Sladder and Musgrove would be wild when they got dumped into that pit," remarked Bob.
The trapper laughed as he recalled the scene. "If them kids hadn't been so sassy, I wouldn't have done it," he said. "I thought one of 'em needed a lesson, anyway."
"Here's the snow!" cried Bob, at length.
"Slow—very slow—an' sure," added the trapper.
They had reached the gloomy depths of a dense wood. Here and there were great boulders of odd shapes, and their rugged appearance added to the desolation of the scene.
As they passed one of these, a long, low growl suddenly caused them to turn. But a few paces distant stood a huge wildcat. Its paws rested on a partly devoured rabbit, and, angry at being disturbed, the animal crouched low, while its long tail moved slowly forth and back.
With flattened ears and glaring eyes, it presented a terrifying sight, and, thoroughly startled, Bob Somers involuntarily stepped backward.
"Leave it to me!" yelled Yardsley.
But as he spoke, the dull, tawny-colored animal, with a snarl, sprang directly toward Bob Somers.