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sprinkled near each of the traps was good medicine, he said; a
view that was evidently shared by Skookum.
More than once they saw the track of the big fox of the region,
but never very near the snare. He was too clever to be fooled by
smell-spells or kidney products, no matter how temptingly
arrayed. The trappers did, indeed, capture three red foxes; but
it was at cost of great labour. It was a venture that did not
pay. The silver fox was there, but he took too good care of his
precious hide. The slightest hint of a man being near was enough
to treble his already double wariness. They would never have
seen him near at hand, but for a stirring episode that told a
tale of winter hardship.
Chapter 39. The Humiliation of Skookum
If Skookum could have been interviewed by a newspaper man, he
would doubtless have said: "I am a very remarkable dog. I can
tree partridges. I'm death on porcupines. I am pretty good in a
dog fight; never was licked in fact: but my really marvellous
gift is my speed; I'm a terror to run."
Yes, he was very proud of his legs, and the foxes that came about
in the winter nights gave him many opportunities of showing what
he could do.
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