214 THE STORY OP THE TRAPPER 



his dog sprang alert with pricked ears. Man and dog 

 heard the sniff sniff sniff of some creature attracted 

 to the cabin by the smell of broiling meat, and now 

 rummaging at its own risk among the traps. And 

 once when Koot was stretched out on a bear-skin be 

 fore the fire puffing at his pipe-stem, drying his moc 

 casins and listening to the fusillade of frost rending 

 ice and earth, a long low piercing wail rose and fell 

 and died away. Instantly from the forest of the 

 swamp came the answering scream a lifting tumbling 

 eldritch shriek. 



&quot; I should have set two traps/ says Koot. &quot; They 

 are out in pairs.&quot; 



Black is the flag of danger to the rabbit world. 

 The antlered shadows of the naked poplar or the toss 

 ing arms of the restless pines, the rabbit knows to be 

 harmless shadows unless their dapple of sun and shade 

 conceals a brindled cat. But a shadow that walks and 

 runs means to the rabbit a foe; so the wary trapper 

 prefers to visit his snares at the hour of the short 

 shadow. 



It did not surprise the trapper after he had heard 

 the lifting wail from the swamp woods the night be 

 fore that the bacon in the trap lay untouched. The 

 still hunter that had crawled through the underbrush 

 lured by the dead rabbits over Koot s shoulder wanted 

 rabbit, not bacon. But at the nearest rabbit snare, 

 where a poor dead prisoner had been torn from the 

 twine, were queer padded prints in the snow, not of 

 the rabbit s making. Koot stood looking at the tell 

 tale mark. The dog s ears were all aprick. So was 

 Koot s sense of feel, but he couldn t make this thing 



