water. 'Twa'n't eatable nohow!"

Here Rube took a fresh mouthful of the wolf-mutton, and remained silent
until he had masticated it. The men had become interested in the story,
and waited with impatience. At length he proceeded--

"I seed the buzzarts still flyin' about, an' fresh ones a-comin'. I tuk
a idee that I mout git my claws upon some o' 'em. So I lay down clost
up agin the calf, an' played 'possum.

"I wa'n't long that a way when the birds begun to light on the sandbar,
an' a big cock kim floppin' up to the karkidge. Afore he kud flop up
agin, I grupped him by the legs."

"Hooraw! well done, by gollies!"

"The cussed thing wur nearly as stinkin' as t'other, but it wur die
dog--buzzart or calf--so I skinned the buzzart."

"And ate it?" inquired an impatient listener. "No-o," slowly drawled
Rube, apparently "miffed" at being thus interrupted. "It ate me."

The laugh that followed this retort restored the old trapper to good
humour again.

"Did you go it raw, Rube?" asked one of the hunters. "How could he do
otherwise? He hadn't a spark o' fire, an' nothing to make one out of."

"Yur'n etarnal fool!" exclaimed Rube, turning savagely on the last
speaker. "I kud make a fire if thur wa'n't a spark anywhar!"

A yell of laughter followed this speech, and it was some minutes before
the trapper recovered his temper sufficiently to resume his narration.

"The rest o' the birds," continued he at length, "seein' the ole cock
rubbed out, grew shy, and kep away on t'other side o' the river.
'Twa'n't no use tryin' that dodge over agin. Jest then I spied a coyoat
comin' lopin' down the bank, an' another follerin' upon his heels, an'
two or three more on the same trail. I know'd it wud be no joke
gruppin' one o' them by the leg, but I made up my mind to try it; an' I
lay down jest as afore, close up to the calf. 'Twur no go. The cunnin'
things seed the float stick, an' kep clur o' the karkidge. I wur
a-gwine to cacher under some bush that wur by, an' I begun to carry it
up, when all of a suddint I tuk a fresh idee in my head. I seed thur
wur drift-wood a plenty on the bank, so I fotched it up, an' built a
pen-trap roun' about the calf. In the twinklin' o' a goat's eye I had
six varmints in the trap."

"Hooraw! Ye war safe then, old hoss."

"I tuk a lot o' stones, an' then clomb up on the pen, an' killed the hul
kit on 'em. Lord, boyees! 'ee never seed sich a snappin', and snarlin',
and jumpin',