Chapter 9

A DEADLY SNARE FOR THE MUSK-RAT.

"I have been in the business, off and on," continued Jack, "ever since I was the size of a hop toad."

"It pays, doesn't it?"

"That depends. Sometimes it does, and then again it don't. It's accordin' to the critter. Mink, now, fitches a fancy price when you can catch 'em. They are a mighty scarce article now-a-days. But rabbits ain't worth shucks. It is a job to skin 'em, they are so tender; and they won't fetch nothing."

"How about musk-rats?"

"Got an eye to business, eh?"

"If I am lucky enough to catch one, I should like to sell the skin."

"Well, musquash pays if it is skun right."

"How is that? A skin is a skin, isn't it?"

"Yes; but a skin with the head on is one thing, and a skin with the head off is another, as you will find out if you ever try it on."

"I shouldn't think that would make any difference."

"It does a heap. A quarter is the most you can get without the head."

"And with it?"

"Fifty cents for a big one."

"Is that so?"

"Well, it is."

"I am very glad you told me," said Bertie.

"It is a little thing worth knowing," returned Jack. "Never caught a pole-cat, I take it."

"I never caught anything," said Bertie.

"Seen 'em?"

"I don't know that ever I did."

"Smelt 'em?"

Bertie confessed that he had no acquaintance whatever with the animal, but mentioned that once they found a skunk in Charley's chicken-house sucking eggs, and they killed it.

"Him's um," said Jack.

"Oh!"

"Didn't cook it, I suppose."

"Cook it!"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"Eat, of course."

Bertie could not conceal his disgust.

"You needn't turn up your nose at _him_," continued Jack. "Good eating _he_ is. Tender as a sucking pig, and tastes so nigh like I'd stump _you_ to tell the difference."

Jack was going to say "tender as a chicken," but he remembered the calico and so avoided the use of the word.

"I am sure you are joking," declared Bertie.

"Not a bit of it," said Jack. "I wouldn't ask for a better dinner. The critter is like some other folks, not half so bad as you try to make him out. He has got a bad name, and that is the worst thing there is about him."

"Except his odor."

"That's not so bad either after you get used to it."

"Ugh!"

"Musquash is no better, if they do pay a good price for it."

"Do they?"

"They do. To make scent of for the ladies. One of them little bags will make gallons and gallons, they say. I know a man that buys all he can get. There you are! A heap better off than you was before. I reckon that trap will hold a musquash next time it catches one."

"Thank you," said Bertie.

"And if the spring don't happen to kill him, just touch him on the head with a stone. A little tap will do it, for he is mighty tender about the head."

Bertie said "Thank you" again, and Jack helped him bait and set the trap, and this time a deadly snare was laid for the musk-rat. Bertie was late to breakfast. Charley looked up inquiringly as he walked in and took his seat at the table; but Bertie had not a word of explanation to offer. Charley had laughed at him so often that he meant to keep his own counsel till the game was sure; but he could not help showing in his face that something unusual had happened.

"Catch anything?" said Charley.

"No."

"Trap sprung?"

"No."

"Nothing in it, eh?"

"No."

"I thought so."

Bertie laughed as he considered how _very_ empty the trap was.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I was thinking," said Bertie.

"Meet anybody up there?"

"One fellow."

"Who?"

"Jack Midnight."

"What was he doing?"

"Looking round."

"Give you any of his impudence?"

"No. He was very civil and obliging. He offered to fix the spring of my trap."

"You didn't let him?"

"I could not refuse without hurting his feelings, and I did not want to do that."

"I should, plump. My feelings are not seared over yet. I have not forgotten the calico."

"And he has not."

"Do you believe it?"

"I do, Charley. I think he feels awful cheap about it."

"I hope he does."

"I know he does."

"He didn't say so?"

"No; but he acted so."

"If he feels cheap I hope he will stay so and keep his distance."

Bertie hoped so too. He was very much obliged to Jack for helping him with the trap, but he did not care to be on familiar terms with him. He was not the right sort of boy for a companion. On the whole he was sorry to have met him at the spring.

"I hope I shall not fall in with him to-morrow morning," he said, half to himself, half to Charley.

"You won't if you stay at home."

"I shall not do that."

"You intend to follow up the trapping business then?"

"I do."

"If you meet Jack Midnight every morning?"

"Certainly."

"How long?"

"Till I catch something."

"If it takes all summer?"

"Yes."

"Well, you _are_ a goose."

"You have told me that so often, I begin to believe it."

"I wouldn't take that early walk for nothing."

"No more would I. But if you felt sure of your game, you wouldn't mind the walk."

"No," said Charley.

"Well, I am sure."

"Whew!"

"I am as sure as I can be of anything that has not really happened."

"Ho, ho! That is very well put in. I wish I had as many dollars as I know you won't catch a musk-rat. I could buy the Baby Pitcher's canary to-morrow. Couldn't I, pet?"

Flora had come in, as she did every morning, to inquire about the musk-rat.

"Buy it to-day," said Flora.

"Couldn't buy it to-day for want of money."

"You must not think anything about the bird," said Bertie, "for Charley never will have any money."

"What a prospect!" said Charley.

"Not a very bright one for Flora, I must confess."

"She has my word, and that is as good as gold."

"Mustn't tell a story," said Flora. "If you don't have any money that will be a story."

"And if Bertie does not catch a musk-rat, that will be a story."

"Yes. He said he would."

"And I will. You believe that I will keep my word?"

"I do, and Dinah does."

"Do you believe in the musk-rat?"

"I do. Is he in the trap?"

"He was not in the trap this morning."

"May be there now."

"Yes, dear, he may be."

"And then again he mayn't," said Charley. "If I were in the Baby Pitcher's place I would give up looking for that animal. Her poor little black eyes will be all faded out."

"Won't either, Charley Waters. I am going home."

"Say good by, dear."

Flora would not say good by. She did not like Charley's manner. She wished to be treated with proper respect as she informed Dinah on the way home.

"Gemplemen don't talk so, and ladies don't. Gemplemen say 'Yes, I thank you,' and 'If you please.' And I do. Charley Waters don't. But you must not mind what he says. He don't know nothing. Bertie does."