"Yes," Owen broke in, "and even Ted Shafter and his crowd hunting wild
ginseng roots and selling it to the wholesale drug house at big money
doesn't cut so much of a figure after all, does it?"

"One thing I want to ask you, boys, right in the start," the trapper took
occasion to say; "while you're up with me you must promise never to shoot
at a fox, a mink, a marten, an otter, or in fact any small fur-bearing
animal."

"We give you our word, all right, Uncle Jim," said Steve, readily.

"Of course," continued the old trapper, "my one reason for asking this is
to keep you from ruining good pelts. It would be pretty tough now if
after I caught that black fox I found that his skin had been so badly
torn by birdshot that it wasn't worth handling."

"That's right, it would," admitted Owen.

"You can depend on us to hold back," Max added, sincerely.

"Well, this is about all the traps I care to put out to-day," and as he
spoke Jim made them up in two bundles, one of which he gave to Toby and
the other to Bandy-legs.

He saw that, ordinarily, these two were the least important members of
the club. And in the kindness of his heart he wished to make them feel
that he needed their especial help.

So Toby and the other chum slung the traps over their shoulders with
ill-concealed pleasure in that they had been singled out for such