The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1899-05-03
THE TRAPPER In
"A BEAR TRAP.
THERE was trouble at the Glimmer
BIZ WILLIAM D. HURLBERT

THERE was trouble at the Glimmer-
glass. Not for the animals, but
for the trapper who was hunting them.
For the last three months his snares
and deadfalls and traps had been set
on Canoe point and all round the shore
of the lake, and~even over on the head
waters of the Tahquamenon. None of
the members of the Backwoods club
had been caught as yet; but several Of
them had had narrow escapes, and some
of their cousins had lost their lives.
But it was not four-legged animal
that was captured this time. Can you
imagine what it would be like to hear
a grown man, with deep, strong voice,
crying like lost child? That was the
sort of sound that was ringing through
the woods around the Glimmerglass,
and the animals shrank and trembled
as they listened. They knew that their
old enemy was helpless and that they
were in no danger; and yet it was a
mans voice, and it made them afraid.
They could not help it.
Two days before, as the trapper was
walking near the northern shore of
the lake, he had stepped into one of
his own bear-traps; and its big steel
jaws had come together quick as flash
around his ankle. 1t was fastened by
a chain over large log, and no otter
or fox or beaver was ever more firmly
caught than he. He looked around for
a heavy stick that he could use as a
lever to press down the stiff spring
that held the jaws, but there was moth
ing within reach; so he took the barrel
of his rifle and worked away with it for
several hours. 1t was no use. The trap
had two springs, and he could not keep
both down at once. Then he tried to
draw the staple out of the log, and lying
down on his back he pulled on the chain
till his head swan and his ears rang
and black spots danced before his eyes.
dizziness passed away. There was still
one chance, and he took out his knife
and began cutting away the wood from
around the staple. But by this time he
was. so nervous and excited that his
hand trembled violently. 1t was grow
ing dark, too, for the sun had set nearly
an hour ago, and he could hardly see
to guide the knife. Suddenly there was
a loud snap and the blade broke short
off.
And then the trapper bowed his head
between his hands and sat very still for
a long time. He thought that there was
nothing left for him but to slowly
starve to death. But by and by some of
his courage came back to him, and he
braced up. Perhaps help would come
from somewhere, and anyhow there
was no use in worrying tonight. So
he buttoned his jacket more closely
about him and lay down beside the log
to sleep. He was no more lonesome
than he would have been in his solitary
cabin by the broad sand beach at the
eastern end of the lake, and he was used
to sleeping out in the open air.
The chipmunk had seen it all, and
animals. Before morning they were
all on hand except the turtle, and he
stayed behind only because he couldn' t
climb the hill that bordered that part
of the lake. At daybreak the trapper
awoke and stretched himself, but he
didn't notice the eyes that were watch
ing him from among the trees and
bushes. The dew had settled thickly
on his clothes; he was stiff with cold
and dampness and weak from hunger,
and with every move his ankle hurt him
so that he could hardly keep from
screaming.
Presently his eye fell upon his rifle,
and his face frightened as if a new idea
had struck him. He had at least dozen
cartridges in his pockets. Perhaps he
could loosen the staple by firing the
bullets into the wood around it. But
when he took up the gun he found
that in using it as a lever he had in
jured the breach so that he could not
open it. The disappointment was more