The inexperienced country youth, misled by this seeming carelessness of Reynard, suddenly conceives a project to enrich himself with fur, and wonders that the idea has not occurred to him before, and to others.  I knew a youthful yeoman of this kind, who imagined he had found a mine of wealth on discovering on a remote side-hill, between two woods, a dead porker, upon which it appeared all the foxes of the neighborhood had nightly banqueted.  The clouds were burdened with snow; and as the first flakes commenced to eddy down, he set out, trap and broom in hand, already counting over in imagination the silver quarters he would receive for his first fox-skin.  With the utmost care, and with a palpitating heart, he removed enough of the trodden snow to allow the trap to sink below the surface.  Then, carefully sifting the light element over it and sweeping his tracks full, he quickly withdrew, laughing exultingly over the little surprise he had prepared for the cunning rogue.  The elements conspired to aid him, and the falling snow rapidly obliterated all vestiges of his work.  The next morning at dawn he was on his way to bring in his fur.  The snow had done its work effectually, and, he believed, had kept his secret well.  Arrived in sight of the locality, he strained his vision to make out his prize lodged against the fence at the foot of the hill.  Approaching nearer, the surface was unbroken, and doubt usurped the place of certainty in his mind.  A slight mound marked the site of the porker, but there was no footprint near it.  Looking up the hill, he saw where Reynard had walked leisurely down toward his wonted bacon till within a few yards of it, when he had wheeled, and with prodigious strides disappeared in the woods.  The young trapper saw at a glance what a comment this was upon his skill in the art, and, indignantly exhuming the iron, he walked home with it, the stream of silver quarters suddenly setting in another direction.

The successful trapper commences in the fall, or before the first deep snow.  In a field not too remote, with an old axe he cuts a small place, say ten inches by fourteen, in the frozen ground, and removes the earth to the depth of three or four inches, then fills the cavity with dry ashes, in which are placed bits of roasted cheese.  Reynard is very suspicious at first, and gives the place a wide berth.  It looks like design, and he will see how the thing behaves before he approaches too near.  But the cheese is savory and the cold severe.  He ventures a little closer every night, until he can reach and pick a piece from the surface.  Emboldened by success, like other mortals, he presently digs freely among the ashes, and, finding a fresh supply of the delectable morsels every night, is soon thrown off his guard and his suspicions quite lulled.  After a week of baiting in this manner, and on the eve of a light fall of snow, the trapper carefully conceals his trap in the bed, first smoking it thoroughly with hemlock boughs to kill or neutralize the smell of the iron.  If the weather favors and the proper precautions have been taken, he may succeed, though the chances are still greatly against him.