302 WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA 



he has lost about four dollars. In many of the 

 traps the bait has been eaten by the mice or weasels, 

 but by far the greatest number show no sign of 

 having been visited by animals. The virgin snow, 

 that recorder of deeds, writes no word, and the 

 trapper, after a single glance, passes on. Perhaps 

 the result of the day's work may be but three or 

 four musk-rats, whose skins are worth about eighteen 

 cents apiece.* Then, as darkness sets in, he goes to 

 one of the shanties, and, after a lonely and frugal 

 meal of pan-bread and pork, lies on the floor close 

 to the fire, and, before his pipe is out, has fallen 

 asleep. The morning sees him up long before the 

 sun. Making his toilet is a simple operation, con- 

 sisting only of rubbing his eyes, perhaps putting on 

 a dry pair of socks, and then lighting his pipe, and 

 after a few mouthfuls of food he is off again. The 

 day may not be fine as the day before had been. 

 Maybe it has snowed all night and is still snowing, 

 with a light wind blowing and a temperature of 

 twenty-five degrees below zero. If so, the work 

 will be more difficult, but he must tramp on. The 

 sound of the snow-shoes as they touch each other 

 at every step and the moaning of the wind in the 

 tops of the evergreens alone break the frightful 

 stillness of the snowbound country. The day may 

 prove a more lucky one. Once Joe found two 

 otters in a single trip over his line, but that was 

 unusual and therefore a day to be remembered. 

 Possibly he might find a cross fox (between black 

 and silver, I believe), and that is good luck, but a 

 silver fox is the best of all, for it brings the trapper 



* This was in 1902. 



