"That's a fact," declared Jim, "I've got so I never try to fry a squirrel
nowadays unless he's been parboiled first. They're the toughest little
critters that run around on four legs."

When they arrived at the third trap it was found to contain another
"victim of misplaced confidence," as Old Jim called it.

"Plenty to go around now, boys," remarked the trapper.

"You'll have to excuse me," said Steve, shuddering.

And yet before three days went by Steve had been induced to taste the
musquash, as Trapper Jim prepared them, and found the dish so good that
afterwards his tin pannikin was shoved forward for a second helping as
often as any of the others.

On the way home, after all the traps they had brought had been set,
Bandy-legs noticed a tree that stood up black and grim, as though a fire
had destroyed it at some time.

"Yes," said Jim, when his attention was directed that way, "quite a few
years ago we had a big fire up this way that did heaps of damage. And
I've noticed that the conditions this fall are just about the same as
that year. Why, we've hardly had any rain at all in the last two months."

"The woods must be pretty dry then, I should think," Max remarked.

"Dry as tinder," replied the other. "This little snow will all disappear,
and unless we get a heavy fall soon, it wouldn't surprise me if some
careless campers or deer hunters let their camp fire get into the brush