ater, for they could
catch a glimpse of his back.

"Stay here an' watch me scare the critter!" said old Jesse, with a frown.

He glided forward, very like an Indian brave creeping up on his enemy.
Whoever the offender might be, he seemed to have no suspicion that danger
hung over his head.

Suddenly the trapper jumped forward, and the boys saw him seize his prey.

"Wow! talk about your wildcats springing, that was a corker!"

Jerry led the way forward, though hard put to it to keep ahead of his
eager companions, anxious to assist the trapper if he needed help.

"Take that, you pelt thief, and that! Let me ketch ye at my traps agin
an' I'll jest waste a bullet on one o' yer legs. Kim up here an' steal my
skins, will ye? Thar's another fur ye. Oh, howl all ye want to, I'm
larnin' ye a lesson."

The hearty kicks with which he punctuated this speech brought forth a
whoop of pain from the recipient on each occasion.

"Why, it's Pet Peters!" exclaimed Frank.

There was a snap.

"Thank you!" cried Will, with a satisfied grin; he had succeeded
in taking a snapshot of the struggling couple while their faces
were exposed.

"It'll do as evidence when I want ter send this critter to jail, which
I'll sartin do if he ever comes a foolin' 'round my traps agin. I bet
that snake Bud Rabig set him up ter it. Skeered to come hisself, an'
sends a boy. Now, you git!"

This time the kick was so tremendous that it actually lifted Andy
Lasher's crony clear off his feet, and started him in a mad flight along
the edge of the swamp. As he ran wildly he kept bellowing in pain, and
holding both hands back of him.

The temptation was more than Will could stand, and another "click"
announced that he had secured a second retreating view of the poacher.

"At this rate I'll soon have my six rolls done," he announced,
triumphantly.

"What harm did he do?" asked Frank.

The trapper made an investigation.

"Jest ketched him in time. Ye see he bed got the game outen the steel,
an' was tryin' to sot the trap again so as I wouldn't know it. That
proves he was sent up here by that sneakin' Bud Rabig; fur what would the
boy know about fixin' a trap if he didn't git guided?"

Jerry picked up the drowned muskrat and examined it.

"Pretty soft fur it has. Lots of it used nowadays I understand,"
he observed.

"Yas, but mostly under other names. Fur is a-gittin' skeercer all the
time, an' they hev to come to stuff they used to larf at. Now