Mooswa & Others of the Boundaries Part 19

"No appet.i.te," declared Carcajou, getting up so the half-starved Lynx might see his well-rounded stomach.

"Most wise Lieutenant," smirked Pisew, "what wisdom hast thou originated this day?"

"That's a queer thing, isn't it?" remarked Carcajou, nodding his broad forehead towards the baited gun.

Blue Wolf looked, took a wide detour, and approached it from the side.

The others followed in his footsteps.

"Years have given you sagacity, Mister Rof," commended Wolverine. "From the side always, eh? Danger sits on top, and Death waits in front."

"My nose finds a Bait!" answered Wolf.

"It's Meat!" added Pisew, working his mustached upper lip like a cat.

"I smell powder!" declared Carcajou, quietly.

"The evil breath of the Ironstick?" queried Blue Wolf. "Perhaps the White Death-powder makes that peculiar odour," he hazarded.

"No," a.s.serted Carcajou; "Francois knows better than that: to smell that Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us cares to pay. Francois knows that we smell first, and bite last; and if our noses detected aught amiss would we pull the string with our teeth?"

"Wise Lieutenant!" murmured Lynx.

"Cunning old Thief!" mused Wolf to himself.

"Do either of you food-hunters want it?" asked Carcajou.

"I'm not very hungry this morning," answered Blue Wolf.

"I discovered seven Deer Mice under a log not two hours ago," lied Pisew; "sweet, long-eared little Chaps they were, and quite fat from eating the seeds of the yellow-lipped Sunflower--most delicious flavour it gives to their flesh. My stomach is at peace for the first time in many days."

"Keep your eye open for the Breed-Man, then," commanded Wolverine; "I think I'd relish that Caribou steak--your Deer-Mice have given me an appet.i.te." He tore the pine logs away from one side of the gun, examined the string critically, cut it with his sharp teeth just behind the bait, and devoured the fresh meat with great gusto, smacking his lips with a tantalizing suggestiveness of good fare.

"In case of accidents I think I'd better break up this Ironstick," he said. Seizing the hammer in his strong jaws, and placing his paws on the barrel and stock, he tore it off and completely demolished the old muzzle-loader.

"Well," yawned Wolf, stretching himself, "you're a match for the Man, I believe. I'm off, for I've got a long run ahead of me--the Pack gathers to-night at Deep Creek."

"What's the run--Stag?" asked Pisew, insinuatingly.

"Whatever it may be it will be all eaten," answered Rof; "so you needn't trail. Good-bye, Lieutenant," he barked, loping with powerful strides through the woods out of sight.

"I'll go with you, most wise Lieutenant," declared Pisew.

"Well, trot along in front," grunted Carcajou; "I want to fix the trail a bit." After they had walked for half an hour Wolverine stopped, and, c.o.c.king his eye up a slim pole which seemed to grow from the centre of a high Spruce stump, exclaimed, "Great-Eating! what in the name of Wiesahkechack is that?"

"Meat!" answered Pisew, looking at something which dangled from the top of the pole.

"It's Francois again," said Carcajou, sniffing at the stump.

"What a splendid cache," cried Lynx, admiringly; "n.o.body but Squirrel could climb that pole."

"But they might knock it down," declared Carcajou. "I have a notion to try."

"Better leave it alone," advised Pisew. "If it's Francois, there's something wrong."

"Carcajou doesn't take advice from a cotton-headed Cat," sneered the other. "Easy Killing! but I'm going up to see what it's like. I know that stump--it's hollow; there is no chance for a Trap there." It was about three feet high. Wolverine made a running jump, grabbing the top edge to pull himself up; as he did so something snapped. A howl of enraged surprise came from the little animal as he dangled with hind toes just touching the ground, and his fore-paws in a steel Trap which he had pulled over the side. The cunning Breed had blocked up his Trap on the inside of the hollow sh.e.l.l, where it was invisible from the ground.

"For the Sake of Security! don't make such a noise," pleaded Pisew.

"Fool-talker!" retorted Carcajou; "come and help me out of this fix."

"I can't open the Trap," objected Lynx; "why, it would take the strength of Muskwa to flatten its springs."

"Run to the King and ask for help, as is the law of the Boundaries,"

ordered Wolverine.

"Gently, Mister Lieutenant, gently; don't get so excited--keep cool."

"Wait till I get out of this," screamed Carcajou; "I'll warm your jacket."

"There, there," returned Lynx, "don't threaten me--don't abuse me, and I'll help you--"

"That's a good Pisew--hurry, please--Francois may come--"

"On one condition," added Lynx, sitting down on his haunches with deliberate self-possession.

"Hang the conditions!" bl.u.s.tered Carcajou--"talk of conditions with a Fellow's fingers in a steel Trap!"

"All the same, I'll only do it on one condition--when they talked the other day of making me King--"

"'_They_ talked,'" interrupted Carcajou; "n.o.body talked of making you King."

"_You_ didn't, I know, Lieutenant; but that's just what I want you to promise now, before I help you."

"I'll see you Snared first!" grunted Wolverine, snapping at the Trap chain which was fastened to the pole, until he screamed with pain.

"All right--I'm off! Francois will soon find you," declared Pisew.

"Come back!" cried the entrapped Animal. "What do you wish?"

"Well, if anything happens Black King, we'll need another ruler--anyway, next year there'll be an election, and I want you to stick up for me as you did for Black Fox. You're so wise and eloquent, dear Carcajou, that the others will do just as you advise. I could make it worth while, too, if there were any charges against you; suppose some one accused you unjustly of having eaten a Cub or a Kit under the Killing Age, why, I could see that nothing happened, you know."

"Sneak! Thief! Murderer!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Carcajou disdainfully. "If I could but get out of this fix, I'd eat you."

"What's the row, you Fellows?" piped a bird-voice, as Whisky-Jack swooped down to a small Poplar, and craned his neck in amazement at the sight he beheld. "By my Lonely Life!" he chuckled, "if here isn't the King of all Knaves sitting with his hands in the stocks. Great Rations!

but you're a wise one; whose toes hurt now, Mister Mocker? Why doesn't that cat-faced Lynx help you out?"

"I offered to," declared Pisew, "but his temper is so vile I dare not touch him. He threatened to kill me--I'm afraid to go near him."

"Why don't you run to Black King for help, you stupid--you can't open that Trap."