all his traps.

The beaver is exceedingly wily, and if by scent or sound or sight he
had any intimation of the presence of a trapper, he put at defiance all
efforts to capture him, consequently it was necessary to practise great
caution when in the neighbourhood of one of their lodges. The trapper
then avoided riding for fear the sound of his horse's feet might strike
dismay among the furry inhabitants under the water, and, instead of
walking on the ground, he waded in the stream, lest he should leave a
scent behind by which he might be discovered.

In the days of the great fur companies, trappers were of two kinds--the
hired hand and the free trapper. The former was hired by the company,
which supplied him with everything necessary, and paid him a certain
price for his furs and peltries. The other hunted on his own hook, owned
his animals and traps, went where he pleased, and sold to whom he chose.

During the hunting season, regardless of the Indians, the fearless
trapper wandered far and near in search of signs. His nerves were in a
state of tension, his mind always clear, and his head cool. His trained
eye scrutinized every part of the country, and in an instant he could
detect anything that was strange. A turned leaf, a blade of grass
pressed down, the uneasiness of wild animals, the actions of the birds,
were all to him paragraphs written in Nature's legible hand.

All the wits of the wily savage were called into play to gain an
advantage over the plucky white man; but with the resources natural to
a civilized mind, the hunter seldom failed, under equal chance, to
circumvent the cunning of the red man. Sometimes, following his trail
for weeks, the Indian watched him set his traps on some timbered stream,
and crawling up the bed of it, so that he left no tracks, he lay in
the bushes until his victim came to examine his traps. Then, when he
approached within a few feet of the ambush, whiz! flew the home-drawn
arrow, which never failed at such close quarters to bring the
unsuspecting hunter to the ground. But for one white scalp that dangled
in the smoke of an Indian's lodge, a dozen black ones, at the end of the
season, ornamented the camp-fires of the rendezvous where the furs were
sold.

In the camp, if he was a very successful hunter, all the appliances for
preparing the skins for market were at hand; if he had a squaw for a
wife, she did all the hard work, as usual. Close to the entrance of
their skin lodg