Year: 1879

down traps around the houses, at
the doorways where they come
out under water.


The huts stood ont ninety or
one hundred feet from the shore,
where there was considerable
depth Of water. There was q
great quantity OF sticks with the
bark peeled off, floating about in
the pond. These came from some
poplars a little above, several Of
which the beavers had felled into
the pond. The bitter inside bark
of the poplar affords to the beaver
it's choicest food.


I set my traps with a "s!idlng-
pole," taking great deal OF
pains with them, so as to get the
beavers into just water enough
to drown them. 1t was a rather
nice job and kept me busy until
near four o'clock, and four o'clock
I does not come till near night in
October.


By the time l got back to my
camp, it was sunset. | kindled a
fire, and cut off few slices Of my
pork, and bad just got it we'll to
cooking in the spider, when l
heard the most startling screech
in the woods that can we'll be in,
agined.


1t sounded away up towards
the lake. I knew very we'll that
no lynx or bear could make such
a noise as that. It flashed on my
mind in a moment what had bro.
ken the beaver.h house.
One is always liable to run
across a FeNs concolor near a
beaver village at that season OF
the year. The beavers now and
then afford them a choice meal ;
and before the frost seals the
ponds and hardcns the walls of the
huts, they stand q chance of
capturing the intelligent crea'
lures.


One of the old "wood sachems''
/ was, no doubt, lurking about the
huts, and likely enough, had been
watching me while [ set my traps
Now he had taken my track, and
was following along after me. l
had heard old hunters tell how
these creatures would follow a
man around-till dark.


III had had a tight camp which
I could have got into, [ should
have felt better. But | had only
little bough shed. And my gun
was a cheap four-dollar fowling.
piece good enough for partridge
and small game, though tho lock
was not always 10 be relied upon
to snap cap.


I thought it all over-pretty
fast-and concluded that the best
thing for me was to be going.


l had made my bough-shed
close beside the brook. Without
stopping to even take off my spi-
der, l caught up my gun and ran
down the bed Of the brook, six or
eight rods, SO as to leave no fresh
tracks for the beast to take.


l may as we'll own that | was
scared. Yet | thought the crea-
ture would likely enough smell
the pork and prowl around my
came awhile.


1 ran rapidly for the first mile
or two, then settled down into a
dog-trot. l had gone about O
mile or mile and q half more, |
should think, when | heard that
same ugly, raspy screech again
not half a mile back.


That made my heart jump, for
| had begun to think that l had
given the old fellow the slip. If [
didn't run then, never fellow
did Lover logs, rocks, and through
windfalls and brambles.


knew it was race for life, and
I ran like a fox. Butt less than
three minutes | heard the animal
again, and it seemed as if he
wasn't a hundred rods behind
me.


[ was hot enough with running,
but that screech sent cold chill
down my back. The beast was
coming right up to me!


1t was awful place to run in
all logs and roots. Forest fires
had killed the old pine growth,
and the trees had fallen across
each other. every way.