272 FUR FACTS 



mink set, a method which he had learned from an old Indian trapper. 

 He found an old log along the river, and we towed it down to a place 

 where the water was shallow. This was not hard to find, as the river 

 was little more than a creek. We placed the log so it was covered 

 with about one or two inches of water, securely fastened it by means 

 of a stake driven in the middle of the stream and a wire wrapped 

 around the log and attached to the stake. We then chopped out a 

 place for the trap, but found it necessary to raise the log a little more 

 so the trap would not be more than two inches under the water. 

 My uncle then took some mud and smeared over the fresh cut place 

 so it would have an old appearance. He then set the trap and covered 

 it with a few water-soaked leaves. Obviously, this set should be 

 made where the water does not run too swiftly. 



Uncle offered to bet he would have a mink in that trap the next 

 morning, and sure enough, when we reached the log the next morning, 

 there was a good sized mink dangling from the trap — drowned. 



We then took up our traps and about noon started down the 

 river again. This time uncle took the wooden boat and Jack and I 

 the canvas one. For a while all went well, but as we proceeded 

 down the stream the current became very swift and the first thing 

 we knew we were headed for the rapids. There was no way of getting 

 out, as the bank rose abruptly to a height of about twenty-five feet 

 on either side. We saw there was no way out of it, so we steeled 

 ourselves for the occasion, holding on to our boats with all our might. 

 On and on we went, faster and faster the sound of the rapids swelhng 

 into a deep, hoarse, roar. Uncle was in the lead and I saw his boat 

 pause for an instant on the edge of the foaming precipice, then shoot 

 downward like a bullet. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and 

 tightened my hold on the sides. And then — plunge! I felt myself 

 hurled from the boat and my head struck something hard — I knew 

 no more. 



When I regained consciousness and opened my eyes, Jack was 

 moving my arms up and down in an effort to induce respiration, 

 while uncle was lying prone upon the ground with an ugly gash in 

 his head, and a sickly pallor on his face. "Good Heavens, Jack, is 

 he dead?" I asked. "He was mighty near it — I surely had my hands 

 full between the two of you — but I think he'll be alright now" he 

 answered, encouragingly, holding a cup of water to my lips. I 

 drank the water and felt pretty good, so I got up slowly and went 

 over to where uncle was lying. He was breathing in short rapid 

 puffs and his contracted features bore evidence that he was suffering 



