After adjusting the clog to their satisfaction, they threw a few handfuls of snow over the trap and chain, and, after bestowing a few finishing touches, they shouldered their axes and started toward the house.  The next morning, at the first peep of day, Frank and Archie started for the woods, with their dogs close at their heels.  As they approached the spot where the trap had been placed they held their guns in readiness, expecting to find the wild-cat secure.  But they were disappointed; every thing was just as they had left it, and there were no signs of the wild-cat having been about during the night.  Every night and morning for a week they were regular in their visits to the trap, but not even a twig had been moved.  Two weeks more passed, and during this time they visited the trap but once.  At length the time allotted for their stay at Uncle Joe’s expired.  On the evening previous to the day set for their departure, as they sat before the huge, old-fashioned fireplace, telling stories and eating nuts.  Uncle Joe suddenly inquired, “Boys, did you bring in your trap that you set for that wild-cat?”

They had not thought of it; they had been hunting nearly every day, enjoying rare sport, and they had entirely forgotten that they had a trap to look after.

“We shall be obliged to let it go until to-morrow,” said Frank.

And the next morning, as soon as it was light, he was up and dressed, and shouldering an ax, set out with Brave as a companion, leaving Archie in a sound sleep.  It was very careless in him not to take his gun—­a “regular boy’s trick,” as Uncle Joe afterward remarked; but it did not then occur to him that he was acting foolishly; and he trudged off, whistling merrily.  A few moments’ rapid walking brought him to the place where the trap had been set.  How he started!  There lay the remains of the sheep all exposed.  The snow near it was saturated with blood, and the trap, clog, and all were gone.  What was he to do?  He was armed with an ax, and he knew that with it he could make but a poor show of resistance against an enraged wild animal; and he knew, too, that one that could walk off with fifty pounds fast to his leg would be an ugly customer to handle.  He had left Brave some distance back, digging at a hole in a stump where a mink had taken refuge, and he had not yet come up.  If the Newfoundlander had been by his side he would have felt comparatively safe.  Frank stood for some minutes undecided how to act.  Should he go back to the house and get assistance?  Even if he had concluded to do so he would not have considered himself a coward; for, attacking a wounded wild-cat in the woods, with nothing but an ax to depend on, was an undertaking that would have made a larger and stronger person than Frank hesitate.  Their astonishing activity and strength, and wonderful tenacity of life, render them antagonists not to be despised.  Besides, Frank was but a boy, and although strong and active