132 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



shuts them in. Then a strange thing is seen a kettle 

 of living fish; fish gasping and panting in ice-hemmed 

 water that is gradually lessening as each day s frost 

 freezes another layer to the ice walls of their prison. 

 The banks of such a pond hole are haunted by the otter 

 and his fisher friends. By-and-bye, when the pond is 

 exhausted, these lazy fishers must leave their safe bank 

 and forage across country. Meanwhile, they are quiet. 



The bear, too, is still. After much wandering and 

 fastidious choosing for in trapper vernacular the bear 

 takes a long time to please himself bruin found an 

 upturned stump. Into the hollow below he clawed 

 grasses. Then he curled up with his nose on his toes 

 and went to sleep under a snow blanket of gathering 

 depth. Deer, moose, and caribou, too, have gone off 

 to their feeding-grounds. Unless they are scattered by 

 a wolf -pack or a hunter s gun, they will not be likely to 

 move till this ground is eaten over. Nor are many 

 beaver seen now. They have long since snuggled into 

 their warm houses, where they will stay till their win 

 ter store is all used; and their houses are now hidden 

 under great depths of deepening snow. But the fox 

 and the hare and the ermine are at run ; and as long as 

 they are astir, so are their rampant enemies, the lynx 

 and the wolverine and the wolf-pack, all ravenous from 

 the scarcity of other game and greedy as spring crows. 



That thought gives wings to the Indian trapper s 

 heels. The pelt of a coyote or prairie wolf would 

 scarcely be worth the taking. Even the big, gray tim 

 ber-wolf would hardly be worth the cost of the shot, 

 except for service as a tepee mat. The white arctic 

 wolf would bring better price. The enormous black or 

 brown arctic wolf would be more valuable; but the 



