The dog was himself again, and
more than once in the hours of gloom dashed forth in noisy chase
of something which morning study of the tracks showed to have
been foxes. They were attracted partly by the carrion of the
deer, partly by the general suitability of the sandy beach for a
gambolling place, and partly by a foxy curiosity concerning the
cabin, the hunters, and their dog.
One morning after several night arousings and many raids by
Skookum, Rolf said: "Fox is good now; why shouldn't I add some
fox pelts to that?" and he pointed with some pride to the marten
skin.
"Ugh, good; go ahead; you will learn," was the reply.
So getting out the two fox traps Rolf set to work. Noting where
chiefly the foxes ran or played he chose two beaten pathways and
hid the traps carefully, exactly as he did for the marten; then
selecting a couple of small cedar branches he cut these and laid
them across the path, one on each side of the trap, assuming that
the foxes following the usual route would leap over the boughs
and land in disaster. To make doubly sure he put a piece of meat
by each trap and half-way between them set a large piece on a
stone.
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