With Trapper Jim in the North Woods
Page 9
CHAPTER IX.
BEFORE THE BLAZING LOGS.
"He's coming!" called out Max from above.
"Take care, everybody!" cried Trapper Jim.
In one way it was laughable to see the tremendous excitement caused bythe small striped animal with the bushy tail. The skunk emerged from thewindow in something of haste. Reaching the ground it seemed to cast onelook backward, as though either feeling provoked at being forced tovacate such nice quarters, or else wondering what all that rank odor ofsmoldering weeds meant.
Then the skunk sauntered jauntily off toward the woods, looking as saucyas you please. The dogs bayed from their place of confinement; the boysstepped out to wave their hands after their departing guest; but not onewas bold enough to wish to lay a hand on him.
"Good-by and good luck!" called Trapper Jim.
"Next time don't stay so long," laughed Owen.
"He's little, but oh, my, how mighty!" remarked Steve.
"Look out, he's stopped!" shrieked Bandy-legs, and with that everybodymade a headlong plunge back of the cabin again.
Indeed, Bandy-legs himself hid in a thicket and looked rather white onreappearing again after Max sang out that the coast was clear.
"They say one swallow don't make a spring," remarked Owen, when alldanger was over, "but it strikes me one polecat does."
Of course, since the object of his labor had now been successfullyaccomplished, Max took the board away from the top of the chimney.
This allowed the smoke to escape in a normal way.
But when they stepped inside the cabin the boys were loud in theirexpressions of disgust.
"That weed was sure a corker for smell as well as smoke, Uncle Jim!"declared Owen.
"Well, I guess you're right there," chuckled the trapper. "I admit itdoes run a pretty fair race with Mr. Skunk himself, and that's why theygive it his name. But it did the business all right, eh, boys?"
"That's what," assented Steve, who had been holding his breath until hecould get used to the tainted atmosphere.
"And we ought to be thankful it's no worse," declared Max, joining them.
"Yes," Trapper Jim went on to say, "I remember a case where in a loggingcamp some greenhorn was foolish enough to kill one of the animals, andthe result was they had to build new quarters. Nobody could stand it inthe old place. There's nothing more lasting."
"It ain't overly nice right now," asserted Steve. "I'm wondering which Ilike least, the perfume our visitor left or the one your old skunkweedmade."
"Oh, we'll soon change all that, boys," declared Trapper Jim. "Build upthe fire and we'll get busy. Just wait and see how it's done."
It was, after all, a very simple thing.
Trapper Jim's idea seemed to be built on the principle that "like iscured by like." He believed in overpowering one odor with another.
And when that cabin began to fill up with the appetizing scent of fryingonions, flanked by that of some ground coffee, which Jim allowed toscorch close to the flames, even "hard-to-please Steve" admitted thateverything seemed peaceful and lovely again.
"But after this," he remarked, "I hope when we all go away from homewe'll be careful to close the blinds as well as the door."
"Yes," added Owen, "and hang out a sign 'This house is taken; no skunksneed apply.' One dose was enough for me."
"But, s-s-say, wasn't it a c-c-cunning little b-b-beast," observed Toby,"and d-d-didn't he look real sassy when he m-m-marched off with hist-t-tail up over his s-s-shoulder?"
Steve looked at him severely.
"You'd better be mighty careful how you admire one of them stripedcritters at close quarters, Toby, if ever you meet one in the woods," heremarked.
"S-s-sure I will be careful," replied the other, with a wide grin.
"Because," Steve went on to say, "if you ever do get in collision withone, we'll have to bury every stitch you've got on, crop your hair close,and make you sleep and live in some old hollow tree. Ain't that so, UncleJim!"
"I guess that's about the size of it," came the reply.
"Oh, you d-d-don't need to w-w-worry about me," Toby hastened to say. "Iknow enough to k-k-keep out of the r-r-rain. I d-d-don't like hisl-l-loud ways any b-b-better'n the rest of you."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," Steve continued, severely. "I'm alittle suspicious about you, Toby, because you always did like cats. AndI'm going to keep an eye out to-morrow for a handy hollow tree so's to beall ready."
"Oh, s-s-shucks! I h-h-hope you'll n-n-need it your own self," was whatToby sent back at him.
By the time supper was ready the boys were as hungry as a pack of wolvesin January. And everything tasted so good, too.
Trapper Jim showed them how to cook some of the venison in a mostappetizing way. It was "some tough," as even the proud Steve admitted;but, then, what boy with a gnawing appetite ever bothered about such asmall thing?
The idea that they had actually shot the deer themselves would cover amultitude of sins in the eyes of the young Nimrods.
And while they were satisfied that the disagreeable odor left behind bytheir unwelcome guest had been dissipated, Trapper Jim knew better. Theywould detect faint traces of it about the place for days to come, andfind no difficulty about believing the trapper's story about theabandonment of a lumber camp.
"Are all s-s-skunks s-s-striped like that one was?" asked Toby, duringthe progress of the meal.
"There he goes again," burst out Steve; "I tell you, fellows, we're goingto have a peck of trouble with this here inquirin' mind of Toby's."
"G-g-go chase yourself!" blurted out the stuttering boy, indignantly."I'm only tryin' to g-g-get information at c-c-close quarters."
"And you'll get it, all right," chuckled Steve. "You'll be satisfied, Ireckon; but think of us, what we'll have to stand. Just you let thatclose quarters racket die out, Toby Jucklin."
"Some of the animals are jet black," remarked the trapper, "and theyfetch a better price than the striped skins."
"Glory be!" ejaculated Bandy-legs.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Steve.
"You don't mean to tell me they use the skins for furs?" Bandy-legscontinued.
"Sure they do," replied Steve; "ain't that so, Uncle Jim?"
"They make splendid furs," was what the trapper remarked. "The stripedones are dyed, of course. And they have a way of removing any faint odorthat happens to remain."
"Faint odor!" echoed Steve, sniffing the atmosphere. "I wonder if thereever is such a thing in connection with these awful beasts."
"That shows you haven't read up about them, Steve," remarked Owen. "Why,there are a whole lot of skunk farms all over the Northern States."
"You're fooling me, Owen," declared Steve, reproachfully.
"How about it, Uncle Jim; am I kidding him?" demanded Owen, turningtoward the old trapper, who was enjoying all this talk immensely.
"Heaps of skunk farms, yes, siree," he replied, promptly. "They soon getto know the man who feeds them and give him no trouble. He's a peaceablelittle critter, and only when he gets excited does he go to extremes."
"Well, I want to give 'em all a wide berth," Steve asserted. "And if Imeet one in the woods I'm willing to let him have the whole path. I'dtake off my hat and bow in the bargain, if I thought he wanted me to.Because I've got a whole lot of respect for the skunk family. They'rejust immense!"
So they talked and jollied each other as they went on eating one of the"bulliest suppers" they had ever sat down to, as more than one of theboys loudly declared.
The dogs had been brought in and were given their share from the remainsof the venison that had been cooked, the balance of the hind quarterhaving been hung out in the frosty air.
All of the boys had taken a decided fancy to the dogs, and in return theintelligent animals seemed to reciprocate this friendly feeling.Accustomed to sharing the cabin with the trapper at night as his onlycompanions during the long winter months, they did not take kindly to thenew rule that made them sleep o
ut in a kennel while the boys werepresent. And when allowed inside they hugged the fire in a way that toldhow much they appreciated its cheery warmth.
They were lying there later on in the night and Trapper Jim had justmentioned that it must be time for him to take the dogs out, when oldAjax lifted his head and growled. Immediately little yellow Don did thesame.
"What ails 'em?" asked Steve, as the dogs got up and stood there, thehair along their necks and backs rising up.
"Oh, I reckon they scent some animal prowling around outside," remarkedthe trapper, making for the door.
"Good gracious! I hope now it ain't that same old skunk come back becausehe's changed his mind!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, glancing hastily around, asif to see where he could hide.
The trapper, however, seemed to know that there was no danger along thoselines. He took down the bar, and, throwing open the door, stepped out.
As he did so there was a sudden vicious snarl that thrilled the boys, andthen the dogs bounded out with a chorus of wild barks.