THE BOY-HUNTER. 47 



of my traps ; of white foxes and black foxes, or of a great 

 opossum, lying with crushed heads beneath my dead-falls ; or 

 of tracking some creature that left the foot-mark of an ele- 

 phant on, the fresh snow for miles and miles through the bowed 

 and foreign-looking woods, until I had tree'd it at last ; when, 

 after toiling and tugging, with sweaty brows, I had drawn it 

 forth from the hollow, and held it in my hand, I saw, without 

 the least surprise, that it was a soft little wood-mouse ! Ah ! 

 delicious fantasies were they ! 



When at cock-crow I bounded out of bed and ran to the 

 window, the first thing how I clapped my hands and danced 

 for joy, and waked every body with my shoutings "The 

 snow ! the snow ! a deep snow !" 



Then what a fussing time ! making new traps, stealing 

 clap-boards, and every other kind of boards that were avail- 

 able, to be split into trap pieces ! What a teasing my father for 

 triggers, to make me triggers for spring-falls, nooses, par- 

 tridge traps, traps for little birds, and all ! How I wondered 

 I could not get the old gentleman to understand that I should 

 be ruined ! dead-ruined ! if I did not get my traps ready to 

 be set early even by breakfast-time for the other boys 

 would be setting their's, too, and take all the best places. 



Little did I care for the hot coffee and cakes that morning, 

 but snatching a sup and a bite, was off, whistling for Milo, 

 and shouting for Pomp the negro boy, to accompany and help 

 me. Eagerly did we discuss, by the way, as we lugged our 

 heavy traps through the deep snow, whether the sink-hole in 

 the pasture, the thicket in the corn-field fence row, the black- 

 berry patch in the corner, or on the edge of the woods, were 

 the surest places for "Bob Whites," (partridges), or "Molly 

 Cotton-tails," (hares). There was no deciding between them, 

 so, to settle the matter, a trap was set at each place, and one 

 in addition for larks, doves, red-birds, and sparrows, by the 

 old wheat-stack behind the barn. 



Pompey, who carried the spade, dug away the snow from 



