3 o2 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



beast fall. Over they roll on the sandy beach, hawk and mink, 

 over and over with a thrashing of the hawk's wings to beat the 

 treacherous little vampire off. Now the blood-sucker is on top 

 clutching — clutching ! Now the bird flounders up, craning his 

 neck from the death-grip. Then the hawk falls on his back. His 

 wings are prone. They cease to flutter. 



Running to the bank the trapper is surprised to see the little 

 blood-sucker making off with the prey instead of deserting it as all 

 creatures akin to the weasel family usually do. That means a 

 family of mink somewhere near, to be given their first lesson in 

 bird-hunting, in mink-hawking, by the body of this poor, dead, 

 foolish gyrfalcon. 



By a red mark here, by a feather there, crushed grass as of 

 something dragged, a little webbed footprint on the wet clay, a 

 tiny marking of double dots where the feet have crossed a dry stone, 

 the trapper slowly takes up the trail of the mink. Mink are not 

 prime till the late fall. Then the reddish fur assumes the shades 

 of the russet grasses where they run until the white of winter covers 

 the land. Then — as if nature were to exact avengement for all 

 the red slaughter the mink has wrought during the rest of the year 

 — his coat becomes dark brown, almost black, the very shade that 

 renders him most conspicuous above snow to all the enemies of the 

 mink world. But while the trapper has no intention of destroying 

 what would be worthless now but will be valuable in the winter, 

 it is not every day that even a trapper has a chance to trail a mink 

 back to its nest and see the young family. 



But suddenly the trail stops. Here is a sandy patch with some 

 tumbled stones under a tangle of grasses and a rivulet not a foot 

 away. Ah — there it is — a nest or lair, a tiny hole almost hidden 

 by the rushes ! But the nest seems empty. Fast as the trapper 

 has come, the mink came faster and hid her family. To one side, 

 the hawk had been dropped among the rushes. The man pokes a 

 stick in the lair but finds nothing. Putting in his hand, he is 

 dragging out bones, feathers, skeleton muskrats, putrid frogs, 



