He found some traps but
none with his mark; none of a familiar make even.
"Better hunt for a squaw and papoose," sneered Hoag, who was
utterly puzzled by the fact that now Rolf was obviously a white
lad.
But all the search was vain. Either Hoag had not stolen the
traps or had hidden them elsewhere. The only large traps they
found were two of the largest size for taking bear.
Hoag's torrent of bad language had been quickly checked by the
threat of turning Skookum loose on his legs, and he looked such a
grovelling beast that presently the visitors decided to leave him
with a warning.
The Indian took the trapper's gun, fired it off out of doors, not
in the least perturbed by the possibility of its being heard by
Hoag's partners. He knew they were imaginary. Then changing
his plan, he said "Ugh! You find your gun in half a mile on our
trail. But don't come farther and don't let me see the snowshoe
trail on the divide again. Them ravens is awful hungry."
Skookum, to his disappointment, was called off and, talking the
trapper's gun for a time, they left it in a bush and made for
their own country.
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