“Oh!  I got a few in line.  Season’s a bit early yet, ye see.  Bringing in some musquash,” and he swept his hand around at a dozen wooden frames upon which the skins were drying in the shade.

“Please let me get a picture of you at work, just as you were when we came up,” said the ambitious photographer, keen on the subject that interested him most.

The trapper grinned good-naturedly.

“Fire away, then.  So long as I don’t give away any o’ my secret ways o’ preparin’ the pelts, I don’t keer.  I’m some proud o’ that shack, too.  Sheds the rain, an’ kin be kept warm easy; what more do a feller want?” he observed.

The operation was speedily completed.

“Hope you feel better now you’ve got that out of your system,” said Jerry.

“I have five more exposures on this roll of film, boys.  Hope to get something worth while before we start back to camp,” retorted Will, caressing his new camera.

“Where do you get the muskrats, Jesse?” asked Frank, as he bent down to examine the way in which each skin was carefully stretched out on its little frame.

“Along the edge o’ the swamp half a mile off.  They’s jest rafts o’ ’em thar.  As a rule the pelts bring about fifteen cents each, but jest now thar’s quite a boom on, an’ I reckon I’ll git sixty apiece.”

“That’s fine.  What else do you catch here in season?” asked Jerry.

“Wall, a few mink, not many, once in a long while an otter, fur which I git twenty dollars.  Then I caught three bobcats last winter, seven foxes, eleven ’coon, half a dozen ‘possums, an’ two black b’ars, though one o’ them I shot arter we had a right lively argyment.”

“Whew! then there are bears around here?” asked Will, eagerly; “what wouldn’t I give to get a picture of one in its wild state?”

The old man laughed.

“Kinder risky business a shootin’ that thing at a b’ar, ’specially a she-b’ar as has young uns nigh.  Like as not she’d rush ye.  Now, I got a skin here with the head on it, an’ if it comes to the wust we might rig that up, natural like, so ye cud git a picter o’ a wild an’ ferocious beast coming at ye on his hind legs.”

“Oh!  I hope I won’t have to descend to a fake like that.  But we’ve come to put in the day with you, Jesse.  Show us how you set your traps, won’t you?”

“Sartin I will.  Was jest startin’ out for a turn when ye showed up; so s’pose ye drop in line.  It won’t take more’n an hour or two, boys.”

They were delighted at the chance, Will lugging his camera along, though the old trapper cast a dubious eye on the affair, as if he did not wholly like the idea of visiting his traps with such a “contraption,” something unheard of in his experience.

“Now, don’t even whisper, fellers.  Here’s the swamp and my traps begins clost by.  I’ll show ye all about it by signs.  Dumb trappers is most successful, they sez,” remarked Jesse, holding up his hand.