log. When the trap and log and chain were all buried underground, he scattered leaves and feathers above the place, and went away. On the spot where Silver-gray had killed the bird that smelled of anise he buried another trap, and just at sundown he placed fresh birds beside them and fresh oil upon the trees.
Now there had been a time in the years before, when Silver-gray had seen his brothers and his cousins, the black foxes and cross-foxes, struggling in the jaws of steel traps, that he would never walk in a path where the feet of man had trod, nor touch anything which bore his scent. Those were the days when he knew all about traps. But now that his brothers and cousins were gone, and the odors of fish-oil and bergamot and anise covered up the scent of man and led him to good things to eat, there came a change in the life of Silver-gray, and he thought that he was smarter than the man.
So when he came to the bergamot-tree, where the men had thrown out a fresh pigeon and the air was filled with the sweet odor of the oil, he did not turn away, even when he caught the smell of iron, the scent of the terrible steel traps, but stopped and swung his head craftily. Pressing his nose to the ground, he snuffed about in a great circle, clear around the tree. This he did to find where the trap was buried—and then he began to scratch. Very carefully he reached nearer and nearer to the smell of iron until he was sure he knew where it was. Then he turned his back and began to kick small rocks and sticks and dirt at it. Chuck! went the great jaws, and threw up a shower of dirt. Silver-gray jumped when the trap went off, but when he saw the jaws half open and filled with dirt he curled his whiskers back and laughed. So this was why
“He flitted across the snow
like a flash of moonlight.” (See page 114.) the man had put out all the fresh birds and the sweet odors! But he would never catch old Silver-gray—not while his nose could smell iron and his feet scratch rocks! And once again Silver-gray curled
his whiskers back in a foxy laugh, for he thought he knew all about traps.
When Old Man Ransome came to look at his traps in the morning, behold, each was sprung and filled with sticks and stones—and all the birds were gone. Then the old trapper scratched his head and sat down on a log and thought a long time what he would better do. At last he went back to his cabin and brought three more steel traps, and instead of one trap he set two under each tree, and he covered them yet more carefully. But in the morning all his traps were sprung again, and he saw where Silver-gray had scratched and scratched until he had come close up to them, and then kicked them full of sticks and stones. All three of the birds were gone again, and he saw that Silver-gray was still too smart for him.
On the next night Silver-gray came again