drop of the "smell," and
wiped another drop on each of his moccasins. "Phew," said Rolf.

"That make a trail the marten follow for a month," was the explanation.
Skookum seemed to think so too, and if he did not say "phew," it was
because he did not know how.

Very soon the little dog treed a flock of partridge and Rolf with blunt
arrows secured three. The breasts were saved for the hunters' table, but
the rest with the offal and feathers made the best of marten baits and
served for all the traps, till at noon they reached the beaver pond.
It was covered with ice too thin to bear, but the freshly used
landing places were easily selected. At each they set a strong, steel
beaver-trap, concealing it amid some dry grass, and placing in a split
stick a foot away a piece of moss in which were a few drops of the magic
lure. The ring on the trap chain was slipped over a long, thin, smooth
pole which was driven deep in the mud, the top pointing away from
the deep water. The plan was old and proven. The beaver, eager
to investigate that semifriendly smell, sets foot in the trap;
instinctively when in danger he dives for the deep water; the ring slips
along the pole till at the bottom and there it jams so that the beaver
cannot rise again and is drowned.

In an hour the six traps were set for the beavers; presently the
hunters, skirmishing for more partridges, had much trouble to save
Skookum from another porcupine disaster.

They got some more grouse, baited the traps for a couple of miles, then
camped for the night.

Before morning it came on to snow and it was three inches deep when they
arose. There is no place on earth where the first snow is more beautiful
than in the Adirondacks. In early autumn nature seems to prepare for
it. Green leaves are cleared away to expose the berry bunches in red;
rushbeds mass their groups, turn golden brown and bow their heads to
meet the silver load; the low hills and the lines of various Christmas
trees are arrayed for the finest effect: the setting is perfect and the
scene, but it lacks the lime light yet. It needs must have the lavish
blaze of white. And when it comes like the veil on a bride, the silver
mountings on a charger's trappings, or the golden fire in a sunset, the
shining crystal robe is the finishing, the crowning glory, without which
all the rest must fail, could have no bright completeness. Its beauty
stirred the hunters though it found no better expression than Rolf's
s