366 THE TRAPPER. 



traverse nightly for fresh supplies of wood. But Bruin, 

 though a cunning fellow enough, is not a good beaver 

 hunter ; he has not enough patience, and when tired out 

 with waiting he tries to break into the camp. This is 

 very hard work, even for men with axes, and if he suc- 

 ceeds in effecting an entrance he gets at the most only a 

 new-born baby or two. The loupcervier and carcajou, or 

 Indian devil, have a hankering after beaver meat, and 

 both these animals are far better beaver hunters than 

 Bruin. With noiseless steps they prowl about the lodges, 

 and pick up an occasional wanderer. I very much 

 doubt though that either of them could manage a full- 

 grown beaver ; his strength is great, and his bite is as bad 

 as a chop of an axe. Eagles, too, prey upon them. But 

 the beaver is very prolific, and were birds and beasts of 

 prey the only animals they had to contend against every 

 lake and river in the backwoods would be full of them. 

 Like the other fur-bearing animals, they cannot hold 

 their own against man ; but, unlike the other animals, 

 they leave their marks behind them on the surface of 

 the country. Ages after the beaver shall have become 

 extinct, altered water-courses, ponds, lakes, swamps, 

 islands, and meadows, not made by nature, will remain 

 as monuments of the untiring industry and marvellous 

 ingenuity of this little quadruped of a bygone day. 



Beaver trapping is a science. The skill, the cunning, 

 and patience it brings into play lend it a peculiar charm 

 quite irrespective of the profits it brings in. A retired 

 beaver hunter has always a hankering to be at it again. 

 He never can forget the days when, with his gun on his 

 shoulder, his axe in his belt, his blanket made up as a 



