his. He was
honest enough. He explained carefully that the skunk was wished to be
caught to keep it from biting chickens under the wing, causing them to
die, and not for any value whatever it might have to the person catching
it. He says it will be beneficial to catch the skunk, but not to keep it;
that a skunk is not nice after being caught, and Lew Wee is more than
welcome to it if he will make a right trap. The cousin himself was
probably one of these fatal "Can happen!" boys. When Lew Wee says he must
have the skunk alive and in good condition he just looked at him in a
distant manner that Lew Wee afterward remembered; but he only said: "Oh,
very well!" in his native language.

Lew Wee then found a small peaked-roofed chicken coop, with stout
slats on it, and made a figure-four trap, and put something for bait
on the pointed stick and set the trap, and begun right off to squander
twenty-five dollars that was to come as easy as picking it up in the
road.

There wasn't any breakfast trade at the country club and Lew Wee was able
to get over across the golf links to the chicken place early the next
morning. The cousin was some distance from the chicken place, hoeing a
bed of artichokes, but he told Lew Wee his trap had been a very wonderful
trap and the night animal was safe caught. Lew Wee was surprised at his
cousin's indifference and thought he should of been over there looking at
the prize. But not so. The cousin was keeping some distance off. He just
told Lew Wee that there was his animal and that he should take it away
with as little disturbance as possible, which would be better far and
near for all concerned. He was strangely cool about it.

But Lew Wee was full of pleasant excitement and run swiftly to his trap.
Sure enough! There was a nice big beautiful skunk in his trap. Lew Wee
had never seen one. He said it was more beautiful than a golden pheasant,
with rich, shiny black fur and a lovely white stripe starting from its
face and running straight down on each side of its back; and it had a
wonderful waving tail, like a plume. He looked at it joyfully through the
slats. It was setting down comfortably when he come up; so he spoke to
it in a friendly way. Then it got up and yawned and stretched itself,
looking entirely self-possessed, but kind of bored, I suppose, like this
was a poor sort of practical joke to play on a gentleman; so now would
someone kindly lift this box off him?

The proud owner danced