228 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



bambye, and you'll want some ah-gim for walk home. 

 I'll tole you." So I went back, and slung my snow- 

 shoes and started again. 



About a mile from camp a fox had killed a rabbit, and 

 left the story of the tragedy recorded in the snow. There 

 was the track of the rabbit, with its three holes in the 

 snow made at each jump, but as the leaps were only one 

 and a half feet apart it was evident that it was not fright- 

 ened. The ambush of the fox was plain where it had 

 crouched in the snow, and the hole scooped out where it 

 had struck its prey; and then the single line of footprints 

 where it had trotted off with the rabbit, all the feet set in 

 one straight line, fox fashion. 



I amused myself in picturing the midnight scene by 

 the evidence of the snow, and went on to the first trap. 

 It was a strong double-spring steel trap set under a log 

 in a place which a mink or fisher would be likely to take 

 on its way to or from the creek. The snow had drifted 

 lightly over the pan, concealing it, and in the trap was 

 the foreleg of a fox and a rabbit lay near it. Here was 

 another story of the woods, briefly told. I reset the trap, 

 smeared rabbit blood about it, took the rabbit for bait for 

 other traps and went on. About noon it began to snow, 

 and I ran the rest of the line in haste, taking out a mink 

 or a fisher, resetting traps and rebaiting some, and 

 pushed on for my old resting place. I had improved my 

 first night's camp with poles and bark, and now had a 

 good, warm shelter, free from snow, which now came 

 thick and fast. Antoine was right. If the storm kept up 

 all night no man could move next day without ah-gim on 

 his feet, and I thought myself in luck. The intense still- 

 ness of a snowstorm we have all noticed. How every 

 sound is muffled, and all Nature seems hushed by its 

 white mantle! 



