CHAPTER V.

CAUGHT IN A TRAP.

THE two beavers walked slowly along the bank till by and by they began to smell something very strong and sweet; at least so they thought, though I doubt whether any one but a beaver would have liked the perfume.

"What is that?" inquired Binney, snuffing the air.

"Let us go and see," said his guide.

So they walked toward the edge of the water, where they saw some green twigs stuck into the mud, from which the perfume seemed to proceed. Somehow or other Binney did not like the look of these green twigs. He had never seen any set in that way, and he suspected something—he did not quite know what. "See there! What track is this upon the bank?" said he.

"A bear's, of course," said the wood-beaver, without once looking at it. If he had done so, he would have seen that no bear ever made such a track; but he was in such a hurry to reach the green twigs that he could think of nothing else.

Binney followed slowly, and it was well that he did so, for in a moment more he heard his friend scream out with pain and fear. He ran to see what was the matter.

"O, I am caught! I am caught!" cried the poor wood-beaver, pulling with all his might to get away. But his paw was fast in the iron trap, and he could not get it out.

"It must be a trap, such as I have heard my great-grandmother tell of," said Binney, trembling; "and I dare say the strange track I saw was that of a man. What shall we do?"

"If you would gnaw this little thing off I could get my paw out," said the wood-beaver.

Binney gnawed with all his might, but in vain. He could not make even the least little mark on the iron of the trap.

"There, it is all of no use," said the wood-beaver, despairingly. "You had better run right home, and leave me to my fate, Binney! It serves me right for leading you astray in the first place. Keep on up the stream till you come to the dam, and be sure you tell every beaver you meet that there is a trapper about. Make haste, or he will come back and catch you."

"I cannot go, and leave you in this scrape," said Binney, crying bitterly. "It was as much my fault as yours. I would bite my own paw off rather than be caught. Beavers do so sometimes. Grandmamma told us so."

"I cannot get at it," replied his friend. "Run, Binney, I hear him coming!"

But before Binney could make up his mind what to do, two men burst through the bushes with guns in their bands. One of them gave the wood-beaver a knock on the head which killed him, while the other seized upon Binney, who, in his fright, did not know which way to run, and so stood still. O how he did kick and bite; but all was of no use. He could not get away.

"What is that? A young one?" asked one of the men.

"Yes, just what we want," replied the other. "Come, let us take him to the camp."

Binney gave himself up for lost, and expected every moment to be killed.

The man who held him, however, did not seem to wish to hurt him, and only laughed when Binney kicked and tried to bite. The men went along up the stream, treading quietly and making no noise, till they came within sight of the dam, when they stopped, and set their traps around.

You may guess how Binney felt when he saw his dear old home so near, with all his friends and relations playing about it, and yet could not even warn them of the cruel traps. But there was no help for it.

The men set their traps, as I have said, and then went away through the woods to a place at some distance, where they had a camp, and where some men were sitting around a fire.

"What have you there, Victor?" asked one of them.

"A young beaver, captain," said the man who held Binney. "Just such as the Englishman wants. He is old enough to feed, and not too old to tame."

The captain seemed much pleased, patted Binney's head, and offered him some bread; but the poor little beaver was far too sad and scared to care about eating. Binney was now fastened with a light chain to the stump of a tree, and a box was given him to run under.

For two or three days he would eat nothing; he spent his whole time gnawing at his chain; but he grew tired of that when he found it did no good. And by and by he grew tamer, and began to relish the bits of bread, and twigs, and the lumps of sugar which the men gave him; and would soon have grown fond of his captors if he had not seen them kill so many of his acquaintances. Every day they brought into the camp beavers which they had caught in their traps. Binney soon observed, however, that very few of the inmates of the village were taken in this way. Almost all the bodies were those of the lazy wood-beavers. As soon as they were brought in, the trappers skinned them, and dried the skins. The bodies were then thrown away or buried, for beaver meat is not very good to eat.

After a time the men found they had as many beaver skins as they wanted, so they broke up their camp and went away. Binney travelled many days and nights, now by land, and now by water; sometimes on horseback, or in a wagon; now on the cars, and again in a great ship over the ocean, till at last he arrived at the city of London.