"Yes, sir," said Owen, looking in the direction indicated.

"If you send a ball through his right eye I'll eat him whole--head, feathers, and all."

"That's a hard shot," replied Owen. "The bushes are thick; then, besides, a yellow-hammer can't keep in the same place long enough for one to take aim. Look at it; its head is moving as fast as the spindle of a spinning-wheel."

"Try it, Owen," put in Martin. "I have seen you make harder shots than that."

While Owen was loading his rifle, the yellow-hammer flew, pa.s.sing over the head of the trapper. Up went his rifle--crack--and the bird fluttered to the ground.

"I reckon you can't beat that, youngstars!" exclaimed Jerry, with evident satisfaction. "I've been practicin' for the shootin'-match next month. I ain't been there since c.o.o.n-Hollow-Jim, as they calls him, is been takin' the prizes; but I am goin' to out-shoot him, sure as my name's Jerry the Trapper."

"It would take a good marksman to beat that shot you just made," said Martin.

"That it would! that it would!" said Jerry, evidently pleased with the compliment.

"Owen, here, can shoot on the wing," continued Martin. "I've seen him"--here Martin paused for a moment, then added: "I've seen him hit them now and then." For Owen, too, had been practicing for the shooting-match to which Jerry referred. It was, as yet, a secret, however, which had been confided to no one but Martin.

"I say, youngstars, has you seen any notice of the shootin'-match?"

inquired Jerry.

"No, sir," said Owen, "and I pa.s.sed the cross-roads yesterday."

Jerry had accomplished his mission by detaining the boys for nearly half an hour, and, as they were anxious to continue on their way homeward, he parted with them without further display of his prowess with the rifle.

"Good mornin', youngstars," said he, putting the squirrel into his game sack and starting down the river. "I'll keep part of my promise by making my dinner on this here feller."

"Good morning!"

"Good morning!" said Owen and Martin almost simultaneously.

When Jerry had gone some distance down the river he turned and yelled to the boys: "If you meet my friend Stayford, tell him he'll find me near old Bowman's shipping place!"

"Why didn't I ask him about that dead-fall?" said Owen, looking down the narrow path where Jerry had disappeared.

"What dead-fall?" inquired Martin.

"One that will catch weasels and foxes. A weasel has been stealing our chickens every night."

"And can't you trap him in the ordinary dead-fall?" asked Martin.

"No! he is too sharp for them. The common dead-fall is good enough for wildcats and wolves. All that you need then is a heavy beam of wood, supported by a smaller piece, to which the bait is fastened; but this is too clumsy for a weasel, for he can make his escape before the trap falls."

"If we meet Stayford we'll ask him how Jerry fixes his small traps. I have caught foxes, but always used the long box-trap."

"I captured a weasel about two weeks ago," said Owen, "and what do you think he did? Gnawed his foot off and escaped."

While the boys were conversing about the sly little marauder of the chicken-coop and planning its destruction, they were hailed by Walter Stayford. He affected surprise to find them out in the woods so early, then questioned them as Jerry did, and received the same answer. The boys on their part had no suspicion of his being the man whom they had met in the cave, as it was too dark for them to see his features when he first appeared there. At Owen's request, Stayford explained how Jerry constructed his dead-falls for minks, weasels and other small rodents, whose skins possessed a market value. Instead of the one large log used for crushing the animal to death, he subst.i.tuted four smaller ones, arranged parallel to each other, and about two inches apart. The trigger which supported these logs did not consist of a single strip of wood, but of three thin pieces shaped like the figure four, the bait being at the end of the horizontal piece and directly under the center of the dead-fall. The trigger thus set was very delicate, and fell if it was but slightly touched.

When Stayford had explained to the boys how to construct the trap he pushed on toward the place which Jerry had appointed for their meeting.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed to himself, as he walked along; "that was my plan, and it worked like one of Jerry's dead-falls."

It was indeed a good scheme to ascertain whether or not the boys would divulge the secret. No sooner had they left the cave than Jerry, who had already donned his hunting coat and cap, pa.s.sing out into the forest by one of the secret entrances, and making a detour through the wood, reached the path about a mile up the river. Here he entertained the boys until Stayford could gain the path still farther up the Beech Fork. For this reason he pretended to look for the red-squirrel, and proposed to devour it whole if Owen succeeded in bringing it to the ground.

When Jerry and Stayford met they congratulated each other on the happy success of the ruse by which they had just tested the veracity of the two prisoners whom they had restored to liberty.

"They're all correct," said the trapper. "They ain't none of your gray foxes what one hound can ketch; but genuine red foxes, what can't be cornered by a whole pack."

"I watched them closely while I questioned them," said Stayford, "but not a word they uttered, nor any expression of their faces could give a clue to the fact that they were in the cave."

Returning to their underground home, the two men secured the rock door, threw themselves upon their beds of straw, and were soon fast asleep.

The boys hastened homeward, discussing excitedly their strange adventure so long as their way permitted them to go together, and even when their paths separated, Martin's following the river, and Owen's leading over the hills, their thoughts were much the same. Was there connected with that cave a secret which they did not know? Did this dark, weird, treacherous cavern shelter beneath its gloomy arches some strange occupant? They felt that there was a mystery in the history of the cave yet to be revealed.

CHAPTER VI.

A VISIT FROM FATHER BYRNE.

Just as Owen entered the yard the dinner-horn blew, so he was forced to go at once to the dining-room. With his best efforts he could not conceal his drowsiness; he appeared somewhat frightened, too, and was naturally questioned about the previous day's hunt. His parents were surprised to find that the two boys had remained in the forest during a rainy October night. When did the rain commence? How long did it last?

Was it cold during the night? Was Owen feeling well? The questions came faster than he could answer; they were of such a nature, too, as would likely lead Owen to commit himself and mention something about the cave.

Luckily for him, however, the attention of the family was diverted to another subject by a little comedy which was just then enacted in the kitchen, where the negroes were at dinner. Wash, who was facing the road which ran in front of the house, suddenly sprang to his feet, upset his plate, spilt his gla.s.s of milk, and yelling as only Wash could yell, rushed from the door.

"Dat n.i.g.g.e.r am jest as crazy as a June bug," remonstrated Uncle Pius.

But he had scarcely uttered the words, when he, too, dropped his knife and fork and followed Wash. The other two negroes joined in the race; and one of them, Mose, tripping his companion, sent him sprawling in the dust. Bounce and Frisk now appeared upon the scene, running far ahead of the others, and shaking their tails in a friendly manner. Bertha and Owen sallied forth from the dining-room, waving their colored handkerchiefs above their heads, while Mr. and Mrs. Howard walked out upon the porch to welcome Father Byrne, whose arrival had caused the uproar.

Thus was Father Byrne received at the home of Mr. Howard. It was impossible to convince the negroes that they were too noisy on such occasions, for in their opinion the one who yelled the loudest gave the most hearty welcome. As the good priest seemed to enjoy their demonstration of affection, Mr. Howard never interfered.

Father Byrne insisted on partaking of the humble family meal, nor would he permit anything special to be prepared for him.

"I see you have a young stranger with you," said he, looking across the table, where a little boy about two years old was propped up in a high chair.

"Not a stranger, Father," replied Mrs. Howard, "not a stranger. He is one of the family--Robin Howard is his name."

"Our children have all left us except Bertha and Owen," spoke up Mr.

Howard. "Little Robin had no home, so we concluded to make him our boy."

"Ow'n and me go rid'n on ol' Hickory," interposed this youthful member of the family, whose chief delight it was to be lifted up on the back of old Hickory and to ride down to the water-trough.

"Can you ride alone?" inquired the priest.

"And the ol' duces (geese) went su-su-su-su."

"Why don't you answer the Father's question?" said the wife. "He wants to know whether you can ride alone."