singing their low sweet evening songs.

[Illustration: The edge of the pond]

The little hunters went straight on from trap to trap. But they found
no fox or wolf or wildcat in any of them. They were sorry. One trap
was sprung.

"Something has been here, and the meat is gone," said Pineknot. "We
must set the trap again."

Thorn quickly bent down a little hickory, and tied a string to the top.
Then he raised one end of a big rock and put a loop of the string
around it.

Pineknot was busy setting a trigger under the rock. All this time,
Thorn stood by, playing with the string, pulling it and letting it go,
pulling and letting go.

"Listen," he said, "it sings like the wind." Pineknot had a stick in
his hand and, for fun, set it against the string. When Thorn let the
string go, the stick was shot out of Pineknot's hand, and against his
bare body. He yelled, and Thorn opened his eyes in wonder.

[Illustration: And, for fun, set it against the string]

Pineknot rubbed the place, but picked up the stick, stood aside, and
set it as before. Then he said, "Do that again."

Thorn did it again, and the stick flew among the trees. Over and over