The trappers thought they would
hear in the night when the door closed, but they were sleepy;
they knew nothing until next morning. Then they found that the
self-shutter had shut, and inside, crouched in one of the nesting
boxes, was a tough, old fighting coon. Strange to tell, he had
not touched a second hen. As soon as he found himself a prisoner
he had experienced a change of heart, and presently his skin was
nailed on the end of the barn and his meat was hanging in the
larder.
"Is this a marten," asked little Annette. And when told not, her
disappointment elicited the information that old Warren, the
storekeeper, had promised her a blue cotton dress for a marten
skin.
"You shall have the first one I catch," said Rolf.
Life in Van Trumper's was not unpleasant. The mother was going
about again in a week. Annette took charge of the baby, as well
as of the previous arrivals. Hendrik senior was gradually
overcoming his difficulties, thanks to the unexpected help, and a
kindly spirit made the hard work not so very hard. The shyness
that was at first felt toward the Indians wore off, especially in
the case of Rolf, he was found so companionable; and the
Dutchman, after puzzling over the combination of brown skin and
blue eyes, decided that Rolf was a half-breed.
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