62 THE SNOW-WALKERS. > 



at dawn, he was on his way to bring in his fur. The 

 snow had done its work effectually, and, he believed, 

 had kept his secret well. Arrived in sight of the local- 

 ity, he strained his vision to make out his prize lodged 

 against the fence at the foot of the hill. Approaching 

 nearer, the surface was unbroken, and doubt usurped 

 the place of certainty in his mind. A slight mound 

 marked the site of the porker, but there was no foot- 

 print near it. Looking up the hill, he saw where Rey- 

 nard had walked leisurely down toward his wonted 

 bacon till within a few yards of it, when he had 

 wheeled, and with prodigious strides disappeared in 

 the woods. The young trapper saw at a glance what a 

 comment this was upon his skill in the art, and, indig- 

 nantly exhuming the iron, he walked home with it, the 

 stream of silver quarters suddenly setting in another 

 direction. 



The successful trapper commences in the fall, or be- 

 fore the first deep snow. In a field not too remote, 

 with an old axe, he cuts a small place, say ten inches 

 by fourteen, in the frozen ground, and removes the 

 earth to the depth of three or four inches, then fills 

 the cavity with dry ashes, in which are placed bits of 

 roasted cheese. Reynard is very suspicious at first, 

 and gives the place a wide berth. It looks likes de- 

 sign, and he will see how the thing behaves before he 

 approaches too near. But the cheese is savory and 

 the cold severe. He ventures a little closer every 

 night, until he can reach and pick a piece from the 



