The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-08-20

foot 1t was so light that a cartridge
dropped from the hand sank to the
bottom Of it. Baree was on the trap
line early. He was more cautious this
morning, for there was no longer the
scent or snowshoe track OF McTaggart
to guide him. He struck the first
trap about halfway between Lac Balm
and the shack in which the Factor
was waiting. It was sprung, and there
was no bait. Trap after trap he
visited, and all Of them he found
sprung, and all without bait. He
shifted the air suspiciously, striving
vainly to catch the tang of smoke,
Whit of the man-smell. Along toward
noon he came to the "nest''-the
twelve treacherous traps waiting for
him with gaping jaws half foot un-
der the blanket of snow. For full
minute he stood well outside the
danger line, shifting the air, and listen
ing. He saw the rabbit, and his jaws
closed with hungry click. He moved
a step nearer. Still he was suspicious
for some strange and inexplicable
reason he sensed danger. Anxiously
he sought for 1t with his nose, his
eyes, and his ears. And all about
him there was great silence and
a great peace. His jaws clicked again.
He whined softly. What was 1t STIR
ring him? Where was the danger he
could neither, see nor smell? Slowly
he circled about the trap-house; three
times he circled round II, each circle
drawing him little nearer-until at
last his feet almost touched the outer
Gordon of traps Another minute he
stood still; his ears flattened; in spite
Of the rich aroma Of the rabbit in his
nostrils something was drawing him
away. In another moment he would
have gone, but there came suddenly
and from directly behind the trap
house-a fierce little rat-like squeak,
and the next instant Baree saw an
ermine whittier than the snow tearing
hungrily at the flesh of the rabbit.
He forgot his strange premonition of
danger. He growled fiercely, but his
plucky little rival did not bulge from
his feast.
And then he sprang straight into
the NEST" that Bush McTaggart had
made for him.
The next morning Bush McTaggart
heard the clanking Of chain when
he was still good quarter of mile
from the nest" Was 1t lynx? Was
it fisher-cat? Was it wolf or a
fox? Or was it BARGE? He half ran
the rest Of the distance, and at last
he came to where he could see, and
his heart leaped into his throat when
he saw that he had caught his enemy.
He approached. holding Is rifle ready
to fire If by any chance the dog should
free himself.
Baree lay on his side, painting from
exhaustion and quivering with pain.
A hoarse cry Of exultation burst from
McTaggart's lips as he drew nearer
and looked at the snow. 1t was
packed hard for many feet about the
trap-house. where Baree had struggled,
and it was red with blood. The blood
had come mostly from Baree's jaws.
They were dripping now as he glared
at his enemy. The steel jaws hidden
under the snow had done their mer-
CHESS work well. One of his forefeet
was caught we'll up toward the first
joint; both hind feet were caught:
fourth trap had closed on his flank.
and in tearing the jaws loose he had
pulled off a patch of skin half as big
as McTaggart's hand. The snow told
the story Of his desperate fight all
through the night; his bleeding jaws
showed how vainly he had tried to
break the imprisoning steel with his
teeth. He was painting. His eyes were
bloodshot. But even now, after all
his hours of agony, neither his spirit
nor his courage were broken. When
he saw McTaggart he made a lunge
to his feet, almost instantly crum-
pling down into the snow again. But
his forefeet were braced. His head
and chest remained up, and the snarl
that came from his throat was tiger
ish in its ferocity. Here, at last
not more than a dozen feet. from him
was the one thing in all the world
that he hated more than he hated
the wolf breed. And again he was
helpless, as he had been helpless that
other time in the rabbit snare.
The fierceness of his snarl did not
disturb Bush McTaggart now. He saw
how utterly the other was at his
mercy, and with an exultant laugh he
leaned his rifle against a tree, pulled
off his mittens, and began loading his
pipe. This was the triumph he had
looked forward to, the torture he had
waited for. In his soul there was a
hatred as deadly as Baree's, the
hatred that man might have for
man. He had expected to send
bullet through the dog. But this was
better-to watch him dying by inches.
to taunt him as he would have tainted
a human, to walk about him so that
he could hear the clank of the traps
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