old scaly bull bellow. But they tell me this happens generally along toward dawn. And the sound is more like the roaring of a lion, than what a regular bull gives out.”

“But what was that we heard, then, Thad?” persisted Step Hen; for long ago these boys had taken it for granted that a scout-master should be in the nature of a “walking encyclopedia,” as Bumpus called it, filled to the brim with general information on every known topic, and ready and willing to impart the same to the balance of the patrol on request; and truth to tell they seldom caught Thad Brewster in a hole.

“Well, now, there are a lot of things in a Southern swamp, any one of which might make a noise like that. If you asked me my plain opinion I’d guess it might have been a wandering night heron, which has a hoarse cry, some of you happen to know, because we struck them up in Maine that time we spent a vacation there.”

“What other creatures are we likely to run across here, besides snakes and alligators, runaway coons and the like?” pursued Davy, always wanting to know.

“Of course there are muskrats, because you can find them in every swamp east and west, north and south,” Giraffe ventured.

“Yes, muskrats are found, though not so many as in the north, and the skins are sometimes hardly worth taking. But there are plenty of raccoons and ’possums: and I’m told they get quite some otter down here, the most valuable pelt that comes up from the South, selling at something like seven dollars a skin.”

“Whew! that’s talking some,” muttered the interested Bumpus. “Did I ever tell you fellows that I once had a great notion of starting in to be a trapper? Yes, I even read up a whole lot about it, but kinder got twisted in the directions of how to go about things, so as not to let the cunning little varmints get the human odor.”

At that there was a general laugh, causing the fat scout to look around indignantly; whereupon the others, notably Step Hen, Davy and Giraffe exchanged winks.

“Ain’t that so, Thad?” demanded Bumpus, turning to the scout-master.

“You’re right about that, Bumpus,” came the reply. “Allan here, who has had lots of experience, will tell you that the most successful trapper is the man who manages somehow to keep from alarming his intended game, both by making few if any tracks around the place where he’s put his trap; and by eliminating the human odor that their sensitive noses detect.”

“There, didn’t I tell you?” demanded Bumpus, triumphantly. “Think you’re smart to just sit there and chuckle; but you’ve all got heaps and heaps to learn about the secrets of the woods. I know my own weakness, and I’m studying hard, trying to remedy it. You’d never guess what a lot of cute things them pelt-takers have to put up, in order to fool the woods folks; ain’t that a fact, Thad?”

Bumpus knew that so long as he could get the scout-master to corroborate all of his statements he was sure of having his opponents in a hole; and it was amusing to see how he managed to accomplish this same thing.

“Yes, it’s all mighty interesting,” Thad assured them. “Nowadays nearly every up-to-date trapper makes use of a prepared scent which he places on the trap, even if he baits the same. It is sold by dealers in skins; and they say a trapper can get much better results by using this, to attract the little fur-bearing animals.”

“What’s that, Thad; you tell us they sell this scent to trappers, or such as think they have a call in that direction?” demanded Giraffe, suddenly.

“Of course any one can buy any quantity, if he’s got the price,” Thad assured him. “You seem interested, Giraffe; perhaps, now, you’re thinking of embarking in the game?”

But the lanky one only shook his head, and turning on Bumpus he demanded severely:

“Looky here, Bumpus, did you, when you read up about all these here interesting things connected with trapping the fur-bearing animals of the wilderness, ever go so far as to invest a dollar in buying any of this wonderful stuff that they say is so fetching that the silly little beasts just can’t resist it?” and as he said this Giraffe tried to hold the fat boy transfixed with his piercing gaze—some of them had at one time even called Giraffe “Old Eagle Eye,” earlier readers of these stories may remember.

“No, I didn’t, if you want to know, Giraffe!” Bumpus broke out with; “and I ain’t agoing to tell you any more about what I learned; because you’re all the time apicking on me, and accusing me of things. I know I make mistakes sometimes, and that one about not remembering whether I fetched my mother back the medicine she wanted is abothering me like everything right now; but the rest of you are in the same boat, ain’t you? Here was Giraffe just a little while back awanting to rush after that runaway convict, just as if we had lost anything like that. Course it was a mistake and chances are we’d got in no end of trouble if he’d had his way. Oh! everybody blunders sometimes; to-day it may be poor old Bumpus; but to-morrow one of the rest of you is in the soup. Forget it, now.”

“What about these swamp animals, Thad, or Allan; and why do you say the skins don’t bring as good prices when they’re taken down here, as in the North?” Step Hen wanted to know.

“Don’t it stand to reason that the colder the country the thicker the fur Nature gives to the animals that bear it?” asked Allan.

“Why, yes, seems like that ought to be so; and I guess that must be the reason Canada skins bring the best prices of all,” Giraffe admitted.

“Sometimes three times as much as ones taken far South,” Allan told him.

“I’ve no doubt that sooner or later we’ll find chances to examine the tracks of ’coons, ’possums, foxes, muskrats, and even otter, while we’re looking around,” Thad remarked; “and it’ll be interesting to notice what difference there is between the various animals, as well as between the same breed up in Maine and down here in Louisiana; for they grow smaller, as a rule, the further south you go. A Florida deer can be toted back to camp on the back of the average hunter, while one up in Michigan or the Adirondacks would need two men and a pole to carry it any distance.”

“This sure is mighty interesting,” observed Step Hen. “I’m always ready to soak in information connected with the woods. I’m like a big sponge, you might say; ready to give it out again on being squeezed.”

“On my part,” Giraffe mentioned, “I don’t seem able to get that coon out of my head; because, if he was what we think, a hideout escaped convict, chances are he must want a whole lot of things, from a blanket, gun and clothes, to grub.”

“That’s unkind of you, Giraffe, to bother us with such gloomy thoughts just as we are thinking of soon going to bed,” remarked Bumpus, uneasily.

“But there’s some horse sense in what he says, don’t you forget it, Bumpus,” pursued Davy.

“That’s a fact,” added Step Hen. “Just put yourself in his place for a while, and try to imagine what your feelings’d be like, asneaking around a camp of boys, nearly half starved at the same time, and scenting the good smells that fill the air all around—of course I mean cooking meat, coffee and the like. Say, wouldn’t it nearly set you crazy; and honest now, Bumpus, don’t you think you’d take some risks to try and hook what you wanted so bad?”

Bumpus, upon being thus deliberately appealed to, nodded his head in the affirmative, and remarked:

“I sure would, and that’s a fact, fellows.