INTO THE TRAP. 209 
Very nervous was the mink, but nearly 
crazy with hunger. The hare had been 
opened, and smelt maddeningly. Moreover, 
there was no way in, except by that narrow 
entrance, across which lay a low log; at least, 
ten minutes’ prowling round the place found 
none. Then at last he risked it, ran up the 
lane of twigs, and jumped the low log. 
There was a sharp, metallic clash, such as 
can only be made by a trap; the mink stopped, 
writhed, stiffened, and was still in death. 
Another muff! 
