118 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



night a net is set for the white-fish that are to supply 

 breakfast, feed the dog, and provide heads for the traps 

 placed among rocks in mid-stream, or along banks 

 where dainty footprints were in the morning s hoar 

 frost. Brook trout can still be got in the pools below 

 waterfalls; but the trapper seldom takes time now to 

 use the line, depending on his gun and fish-net. 



During the Indian s white-fish month the white 

 man s November the weather has become colder and 

 colder; but the trapper never indulges in the big log 

 fire that delights the heart of the amateur hunter. 

 That would drive game a week s tracking from his 

 course. Unless he wants to frighten away nocturnal 

 prowlers, a little, chip fire, such as the fishermen of 

 the Banks use in their dories, is all the trapper allows 

 himself. 



First snow silences the rustling leaves. First frost 

 quiets the flow of waters. Except for the occasional 

 splitting of a sap-frozen tree, or the far howl of a 

 wolf -pack, there is the stillness of death. And of all 

 quiet things in the quiet forest, the trapper is the 

 quietest. 



As winter closes in the ice-skim of the large lakes 

 cuts the bark canoe like a knife. The canoe is aban 

 doned for snow-shoes and the cotton tepee for more 

 substantial shelter. 



If the trapper is a white man he now builds a lodge 

 near the best hunting-ground he has found. Around 

 this he sets a wide circle of traps at such distances 

 their circuit requires an entire day, and leads the trap 

 per out in one direction and back in another, without 

 retracing the way. Sometimes such lodges run from 

 valley to valley. Each cabin is stocked ; and the hunter 



