Aug. 18, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
249 
“After thinking about it a long time I made 
up my mind that they could smell the iron, so 
I washed it and did everything to it, but it was 
no use. The best I could do was to catch a 
young one once in a while. One day I thought 
about smoking the trap and I did that and 
got an old one the first night. I kept on smok¬ 
ing them and would get some quite often, but 
couldn’t get the gray one, and I made up my 
mind that he was the one that kept springing 
my traps and eating the bait, for the tracks 
were all about the same size and looked alike. 
So one day I hunted all round and got all the 
old axes and pieces of iron I could find, and 
put them down by the brook just like they was 
traps and put a little bait to each one. Then I 
set all the small traps right along in a row 
about eight feet apart, and set the big trap in 
between them, and didn’t put no bait on it. I 
had smoked it the best I could and hadn’t 
touched it with my hands. My mother had 
caught some mice that day and she had one 
alive under a cup. There was some bushes that 
hung out over the trap and I made up my mind 
to tie the mouse on to one of them so high that 
the fox would have to stand up to reach it. 
Mother said she knew a better way. She took 
some resin and a little tallow and melted it till 
it was soft and sticky. Then I let the mouse 
out and caught it with the tongs, for I was 
bound not to handle it with my hands, and 
mother dobbed the mouse’s feet all over with 
the sticky wax and I went right down to the 
trap and stuck the mouse on to a bush quite 
high up, and there he stuck and couldn’t move a 
peg. 
“In the morning I went down. In the first 
trap I come to was a red fox, and when I got 
to the big trap there was the gray fox as dead 
as you please. I was a tickled boy now, I tell 
you. I tried to take the trap off, but I couldn’t, 
so I took them both in my hands and started 
for the house, and went right into the kitchen 
to show him to mother and the girls. 
“They all looked at him as he lay there 
on the floor and spoke of what pretty fur he had, 
and when I told them how much he was worth, 
they all stared at me and said I alius was 
lucky. But it seemed that there was not much 
luck about catching that gray fox. It looked to 
me as though it was because I was smarter 
than he was. After we had all looked at him, 
I asked mother to help me take the trap off; 
and just as his leg fell out of that trap he 
jumped to his feet and put for the shed door 
what was open. My sister Polly—she was an 
awful smart girl and could think twice before 
other folks knew what ter think about—she was 
right by the sink washing dishes. She happened 
to see the fox when it started, and she jumped 
for the door and got there before the fox did. 
And when he came up she give him a kick in 
the head that stopped him a minute and then 
she grabbed him with her hands wrapped up in 
her dress and hung on. I got there pretty soon 
myself, and got hold of his hind legs and held 
him up while Polly hit him on the head with 
a fire shovel till he was dead for good. 
“I skinned him and found the skin was a 
nice one, and when Rastus Kent went to Port¬ 
land, I sent it down by him. He brought me 
home $65 for it and as much as five yards of 
ribbon and a silver comb for Polly. Mother 
always said that that fox spoiled Polly, for when 
she found out how nice she looked in pretty 
things she wouldn’t stay at home; and by-em-by 
she went to Portland and married a rich man 
and they went to England to live. I havn’t seen 
her for a number of years, but they say she is 
one of the first ladies over there. I dunno as 
yer could call that spoiling her. 
“I saved the claws and teeth of that fox and 
had them fixed up, and Miss Shaw has got them 
now. We always keep them round to .look at, 
for with that money I traded enough so I could 
have a store, and by-em-by I got the one I got 
now.” 
Two or three times they went out to see if 
there was anything in the trap, but found noth¬ 
ing there, nor was there any sign that anything 
had been there. The last time they went, Uncle 
Shaw said: “I thought we would get what¬ 
ever ’twas that killed the sheep, but I guess we 
weren’t cunning enough. These creatures are 
pesky cunning, and a fellow can’t tell what 
minute he’s going to have them.” 
That evening George came in the store and 
asked Uucle Shaw about his sheep. He was 
told that a trap had been set for the sheep- 
killer, but as yet had caught nothing. 
“Tain’t been down here,” said he. “It’s been 
up on the hill. It hain’t done no damage as I 
knows on, but it scart old Dickerman’s wife most 
to death.” 
“Ole Dickerman’s wife! Who in tunket is 
she? I didn’t know the old fool was married,” 
said Uncle Shaw. 
“You didn’t? He got married last week. I 
should think you’d know all about him, you’re 
his guardeen so,” said George who dearly loved 
to bother Uncle Shaw. 
“I know I’m Overseer of the Poor, and have 
to see that them old folks’ board is paid; but I 
hain’t no guardeen to none on urn,” said he. 
“Wall, at any rate, lie’s been and got spliced 
and gone to keeping house. He said he wouldn’t 
stay there to Pelham’s no more to please you 
nor this town nuther. He said Pelham’s folks 
made him keep fire most all the time, and he’d 
had to saw half a cord of wood since snow 
went off.” And George began slowly to light his 
pipe. 
“The tarnal ole sack er laziness. He hain’t 
had to stir his hand all winter, ’less ’twas to put 
a stick of wood into the fire when he was cold, 
and now he’s kicking ’bout having to work. 
But he’s got married, has he? Who on airth 
did he git to have him? I should like to know,” 
said the storekeeper. 
“I dunno who she is, and I guess he don’t. 
The other day when it rained so, she come along 
and wanted to come in, so Miss Pelham, she 
let her in and kept her till morning. She didn’t 
say what her name was, but they found out she 
come from down Johnsbury way and was going 
to Colebrook. Miss Pelham, she asked her who 
she was going ter see up there, and she said she 
didn’t know. She stopped to dinner with a 
woman t’other day, who said she had a sister that 
lived up to Colebrook and so she thought she 
would just run up and visit ’em a spell. 
“How’d she and Dickerman come to hitch 
up?’ said Uncle Shaw. 
“Wall, as near as I can find out, Miss Pelham 
she asked Dickerman to hold the light to the 
head of the cellar stairs, while she went arter 
some butter. He kicked, and said he didn’t like 
to work all the time for folks what didn’t thank 
him for it nor pay him nuther. Miss Pelham 
she's kind of fiery you know—she says, ‘You 
old lazy hunk of good-for-nothinness, I wish you 
had to take care of yourself; I’d like ter see how 
you’d get along.’ 
“Dickerman, he jawed back and said he had 
taken care of himself most all one summer, and 
he could go it again if he had somebody to keep 
him. Miss Pelham she said: ‘Here’s somebody 
that will help you. Why don’t you two folks 
go to housekeepin’. I guess you air just about 
mated?’ 
“The woman she spoke up as pert as yer please 
and says: ‘Oh, I should like to take care of a 
man. I did get one once and had him quite a 
spell, but he kind of took sick and died, and I 
hain’t never had no good chance since. I alius 
thought if I could only get another. I’d look 
out for him better, and see that he didn’t over¬ 
do and get sick.’ 
“That tickled Dickerman, and he said he didn’t 
mind trying it. Miss Pelham she’s an old match¬ 
maker—she told them they could go down to 
the corner that arternoon, if it didn’t rain too 
hard, and get married; and they could live in 
the old camp up on that air lot of hern, and 
could have all the wood they would chop. So 
arter dinner she give the old man some money, 
’bout fifty cents, as near as I can find out, and 
they started. They was as pleased as a boy and 
a gal when they went down by the field where 
I was, goin’ erlong hand in hand as chipper as 
a nest of mice. Long toward supper time they 
come back and went in and sat down. Miss 
Pelham she asked ’em if they made out to get 
married. They said yes, and went to a circus 
too. She asked ’bout it, but all she could find 
out was that a feller had a tent up and a show 
in it, and they went in two or three times. Then 
they went to the minister’s and he sent them to 
the ’Squire’s and he said to them, ‘Want to get 
married, do ye? You want him? You want 
her? Wall, go home; your married.’ And he 
never charged them a cent; so they bought some 
peanuts and come home. When they got most 
home, he found five cents in his pocket and 
wanted to go back and get some more peanuts, 
but she wouldn’t. 
“Where do they live now?” asked Uncle 
Shaw. 
“Oh, over to the old camp. Miss Pelham sent 
Jake and me over to fix up the old thing a little, 
and we got it so it’s tight on top and they can 
shut the door.” 
“How are they going to live, I should like to 
know ?” 
“Miss Pelham says that they are to board old 
Dickerman for so much a week, and it don’t 
make no difference whether he is in the same 
room as she is or not, to the town; and so she’s 
going to keep right on furnishing them their 
grub and charge the town for his board, and if 
the town pays for his board, course it’s got to 
pay for his wife’s board.” 
“Wall I swum, if that don’t beat all natur. I’ve 
heard tell that Miss Pelham was a master hand 
to calcerlate, but I kinder think that this time 
she’s calcerlated without me,” said the outraged 
Overseer. “Do you s’pose I’m going to see this 
town robbed like that? Why, last year it cost 
more’n $300 to take care of the poor, and if 
these folks ain’t rooted out of that ’ere hut, it’ll 
keep on costing more and more all the time. 
I’m just going right up there to-morrow morn¬ 
ing and put a stop to the whole business. And 
I’ll tell Miss Pelham she’d better stop sich 
works. She’d do this town more hurt than the 
seven-year itch. I’ll see if every old woman is 
going to get folks married and saddle ’em onter 
the town.” And the enraged Overseer stamped 
around the store making direful threats against 
all concerned. 
“How are they getting on, George?” asked 
Frank. 
“I dunno,” said George. “Shouldn’t wonder if 
they kinder broke up. The woman made Dicker- 
man go and chop some wood and he was mad. 
He says he won’t stand it. Says if he had 
knowed he’d had to work like that, he would 
have stayed with Miss Pelham.” 
“What have they got inside the house?” asked 
someone. 
“There was a bunk left where the cook slept, 
and Miss Pelham, she give ’em a straw tick, and 
they filled it with straw. We made ’em two 
stools and a kind of table that tips up against 
the wall. Miss Pelham, she give ’em the old 
rocking chair that Dickerman alius used to set 
in; she said she couldn’t stomach to put herself 
into it and she didn’t want no one else to, so I 
carried it over there. Then she give ’em some 
old dishes and an old quilt or two and some sich 
things, and said she was going to charge ’em 
to the town.” 
“Charge ’em to the town, is she?” said the 
angry Overseer. “Wall, she can charge ’em if 
that ’ll do her any good. But I’d like to see 
her get me to sign an order for her to get any 
money on for sich things, that’s all.” 
“I told her that you most likely wouldn't 
allow it,” said George, “but she said she didn’t 
care. She said if the man what is Overseer of 
the Poor now didn’t care nothing about being 
Overseer again, she just as' live. She knew 
of a man what would like to be it, and be Tax 
Collector as well, and p’raps ’twould be just as 
well to have a change. She said if the town was 
so poor and was managed so that the Hill folks 
had got to scrimp along and never have noth¬ 
ing, while the Valley folks had a road machine 
that cost more’n $50 more’n it ought to, she 
thought it was time there was a change made. 
She said as for her part she didn’t care if she 
never come to the village again, and she 
wouldn’t if the town would just build a bridge 
so’s the people what wanted to trade could go 
somewhere else ’sides that little old store where 
there wa’n’t nothin’, and what there was wasn’t 
good; and what was good was so high that you 
couldn’t buy more’n half a one.” 
