Budd Boyd's Triumph - Part 33
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Part 33

"Rather a strange performance, anyhow," muttered Rod.

"But let's go round to the sh.o.r.e, and see if we can find the fisher."

Going to the sh.o.r.e, we saw that the bank shelved off abruptly into deep water; and in one place it was worn smooth, and was icy, as if some animal had been sliding from it down into the pond. Other than this there were no traces.

So, first cutting a couple of stout clubs, we went to the pine stump, where we had seen what we had taken for a fisher. He was gone; but we discovered a hole in the top of the stump, that went down under the ground, and looking into it saw a broad, black muzzle, and a pair of wicked little eyes gleaming up at us.

"Hollo!" cried Rod, "here he is;" thrusting in his stick. The head vanished.

"But that's no fisher; their noses do not look like that. It was too big and _blunt_. I'll tell you what," exclaimed he suddenly; "it's an otter! That was one out in the pond, too. Did you ever see one?"

"No."

"Nor I; but I've heard old Hughy Olives tell about them; and that's just what this is."

"What about them? Will they fight much?"

"Fight when cornered, Hughy says, like young tigers, too. Dogs are no match for them. But their fur's valuable."

"That's so. We must get this one if we can."

"There may be more than one. They live two and three together, sometimes, Hughy said, in burrows, opening under water. This couldn't be the one that stole our fish, either. It might have been though; for this hole probably leads out into the water, under the bank. Let's see if it doesn't."

We ran to the edge and looked over. The water was six or seven feet deep.

"Stamp on the ground," said I.

Rod did so; and a moment after I saw a long, slim animal glide out from under the bank and dart off beneath the ice--then another.

"Yes, here he is; two of them."

They didn't come up in the open water, but must have gone off under the ice. I suppose there were air-holes through it, where they came up to breathe.

They were otters; no doubt of it. But how to catch them; that was the next question.

"Hughy spoke of setting traps for them," said Rod.

"So we can! Your father's old bear-trap! Set it down under the bank here, where their burrow opens out into the water."

"Agreed."

And home we went after the trap. It was nearly three miles, but we were soon there, and took the trap from the garret, where it had been resting for a dozen years. It was heavy, and must have weighed sixty or seventy pounds. But we hung it on a pole, and resting the ends of the pole on our shoulders, started for the pond; and a fine sweat it gave us before we reached our destination.

The next thing was to set it. The springs were so rusty and stiff that we had to use a lever to bend them, and we came near getting caught in it once or twice; but it was set properly at last, and _sinking_ it at the entrance of the burrow we chained it to an old root.

This done, we filled in stones, and stopped the hole in the stump at the upper end of the den, to prevent the otters from getting out there.

Then we went home, for it was considerably after sunset. We had our trap on their doorstep, as Rod said; they could neither go in nor out without climbing over it.

The next afternoon we went to see what success attended our efforts.

There was nothing stirring about the stump, and creeping cautiously down the bank, we looked over. The trap had been sprung and drawn up into the burrow, partly out of sight. Pulling it out by the chain, sure enough, there was a long, sleek, black fellow in it fast by one of his chubby legs. But he was quite dead--drowned.

The great weight of the trap had prevented his coming to the surface.

And although an otter can remain under water for nearly two minutes, yet at the end of that time he must come to the surface, like any air-breathing animal, or be suffocated.

We were jubilant. Taking him out, we carefully replaced the trap in its old position and went home with our game, where, calling in the a.s.sistance and advice of old Hughy, we proceeded to take off the skin according to standard rules.

The fur was of a light brown color, thickly interspersed with black hairs, which gives the animal at a little distance the appearance of being wholly black. The ears were small and far apart, and the feet short and webbed like a goose. The entire length of the animal, including its tail, was nearly five feet; but Hughy thought this one rather above the average size.

The next day we caught another otter--a smaller one; and about a fortnight after, a third met his fate in the jaws of the old trap.

We received twelve dollars apiece for these skins, and felt very well satisfied with oar afternoon's sport at the Sagamore.

HOW JACK WENT TIGER-HUNTING.

Jack was reading Du Chaillu. He spent a good deal more time that night over Du Chaillu than over his Latin.

His mother and Bessy were seated by the fire, and presently he came over and turned his back to the grate, putting his hands behind him, with a swaggering way he had.

"I've got an idea, mother!" he said.

"I'm glad of that." said Bessy, under her breath. Mrs. Leigh shook her head at her.

"Well, my son?"

"Du Chaillu's in this country, you know?" Jack's face was red, and his voice like a trumpet, from excitement.

"I believe he is."

"Oh, I know it, ma'am! I saw in the paper he was lecturing in New York.

And he's going back to Africa next fall. And I--I've made up my mind to go with him!"

Bessy stared.

"To Africa?" said Mrs. Leigh, folding her hem.

"Yes, mother." Jack was a little damped to find his views received so quietly.

"That is, with your permission. But you see all through this book he is inviting the boys to go. He was but a lad when he killed his first lion. He says nothing would delight him more than to take some fine courageous fellow into the jungle, and teach him how to trap elephants and hunt tigers. Oh, if I could wing a tiger with my gun!"

"Will you thread my needle, Bessy? I think if you wait, you will be a better shot in a year or two, probably, Jack."

"You think I couldn't stand it," bl.u.s.tered Jack. "Why, I've got muscles on me like iron. I tell you, nothing would please me better than footing it through the jungle for months, eating leopard and monkey steaks, and fighting gorillas. Those negroes were poor stuff for hunters, I think! Used to give out in a week or two. So did Du Chaillu.