GARRETT VAN HOESEN. 



135 



be that the trap actually held a rabbit? I went up to it 

 and kicked it lightly with my boot. There was no indi- 

 cation of an "essence peddler" in the air and I peeped in. 

 There was the game crouched in the far end. I let the 

 trap down, and for a few moments enjoyed my triumph. 

 I was a mighty trapper ! Me ! 



This was long before the deer episode, and a rabbit 

 was the largest game that I aspired to. Heart never 

 beat faster over a first grizzly or bighorn than mine did 

 then. As I have said, I had shot an occasional rabbit; 

 but this early morning tramp over crusted snow seemed 

 somehow to make the event seem like the life of a real 

 woodsman. A great part of Greenbush was asleep, and 

 here was I in the forest with its largest game in my 

 power! 



I carefully adjusted the bag over the trap and then 

 opened it. There was a thud in the bottom of the bag, 

 and then a glimpse of something gray and a sound of 

 "zip, zip," and if that was really a rabbit it was gone. 

 The unexpected had happened. That was all I knew, 

 and there was a period of depression such as always fol- 

 lows intoxication. After pulling my scattered senses to- 

 gether, I reset the trap and went on. The third trap ( 

 held a rabbit, and with the last failure in mind great care 

 was exercised in arranging the bag. No mistake this 

 time ! I knew how to hold him. I knew how, but some- 

 how the same thing happened again. The second time 

 the unexpected occurred, and some old philosopher has 

 said that this is the only thing that ever does occur. I 

 was despondent and demoralized, especially when the 

 next two traps were found empty. As the sixth and last 

 trap was sighted, the fact that it was sprung started no 

 heart pumping. I was cooler now that I had seen just 

 where the last rabbit got out. The bag had been tight 



