Northern Diamonds

by Frank Lillie Pollock

  CHAPTER XII

  "Black foxes!" cried Fred. "Mac, give me the glass!"

  "Black, all right," Macgregor said. "Four of them, black as jet. Seethe fur shine! I can't see the old ones. There, I believe I sawsomething move just inside the burrow! Anyhow, all the cubs are goingin."

  He handed the glass to Fred, who raised it to his eyes just in time tosee the black, bushy tail of the last cub disappear into the hole.

  "Black foxes!" he said, in an awed whisper. "Four of them! Why, Mac,they're worth a fortune, aren't they?"

  "And probably two old ones," said the medical student. "A fortune?Rather! Why, in London a good black fox pelt sometimes brings two orthree thousand dollars. The traders here pay only a few hundreds, butif I had a couple of good skins I'd take them over to London myself."

  "But we haven't got them. And we've no traps."

  "One of us might watch here with the rifle for the old ones. I couldhit a fox from here, but the bullet would tear the skin awfully."

  "Yes, and it's too late in the spring now for the fur to be any good,I'm afraid," said Fred.

  "Not first-class, that's a fact," Mac admitted sadly. "But what can wedo? We can't wait here all summer for the cubs to grow up."

  "Let's go down and take a look at the den," Fred proposed.

  "Better not. If the old foxes get suspicious they'll move the den andwe'll never find it again. I think we'd best go quietly away. This istoo big a thing for us to take chances on."

  They took careful note of the spot before they left, and in order tomake assurance doubly sure, Mac blazed a tree every ten paces or sountil they struck the river again.

  They had followed the river downward for about two miles when they sawthe smoke rising from their camping-ground. Hurrying up, they foundthat Horace had come in already. He had brought out the supplies andwas frying bacon.

  "What luck?" cried Fred, forgetting the foxes for a moment in hisanxiety to hear the result of Horace's trip.

  "None," said Horace curtly. He looked tired, dirty, and discouraged."I went clear to the Whitefish--nothing doing. But what are youfellows grinning about? What did you find at the head of the river?You haven't--it isn't possible that you've hit it!"

  "No, not diamonds," said Mac. "But we 've found something valuable."And he told of their discovery of the black foxes. "But the problem ishow to get them," he finished. "The only way I can see is to shootthem at long range."

  "Shoot them! Are you crazy?" exclaimed Horace, who was even morestirred by the news than they had expected. "Never! Catch 'em alive!They're worth their weight in gold."

  "Alive! I never thought of that!" exclaimed Fred.

  "Why, their fur is no good now. Besides, suppose you did get awretched thousand dollars or so for the pelts--what's that? Why, downin Prince Edward Island a pair of live black foxes for breeding wassold for $45,000."

  "Gracious!" gasped Fred.

  "Down there every one is wild about breeding fur. A big syndicate hasa ranch that's guarded with watchmen and burglar alarms like a bank.Their great trouble is to get the breeding stock, and they'll payalmost any price for live, uninjured black foxes. If we could manageto catch this pair of old ones and the four cubs without hurting them,they ought to bring--I'd be afraid to guess how much! Maybe a hundredthousand dollars! Kill them? Why, you'd kill a goose that laid goldeneggs!"

  "That's right! I've heard of those fox ranches, of course," said Mac,"but I didn't think of them at the moment. A hundred thousand dollars!But how on earth can we catch them? We might dig the cubs out of theirden, but we couldn't get the old ones that way. If we only had a fewtraps!"

  "Why, there's that trap I found in the woods!" exclaimed Fred suddenly.

  They had all forgotten it; they had dropped the trap into the dunnage,and had not seen or thought of it since. Now, however, they eagerlyrummaged it out, and examined it critically.

  It was badly rusted, but not broken. Mac knocked off the dirt and rustscales, rubbed it thoroughly with grease, and set it. When he touchedthe pan with a stick the jaws snapped. The springs were a littlestiff, but after they had been worked several times and well greased,the trap seemed to be almost as good as new.

  "We should have three or four of them," said Peter. "Having only onetrap gives us a slim chance. But suppose we do get them, what then?"

  "Why, we'll have to have some sort of cage ready in which to carrythem; then we'll make all the speed we can back to Toronto," repliedHorace.

  "And give up the diamond hunt?" cried Mac, in disappointment.

  "What else can we do, anyhow?" replied Horace. "The flour is almostgone and we're almost barefoot. And see here, boys," he went on,earnestly, "I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid my calculations werewrong on these diamond-beds. I thought it all out while I was cominghome from Whitefish River. Somewhere up here in the North there mustbe a place where those diamonds came from--but I'm beginning to believeit isn't in this part of the country. You see, the geologicalformation is all different from the kind where diamond matrix is everfound. Those stones I picked up may have been traveling for a thousandyears down one creek and another. They may have come down in theglacial drift. I was altogether too hasty, I see now, in assuming thatthey originated in one of the rivers where I found them.

  "They may have come from a river a hundred miles away. Or perhaps fromdeep underground. We should have made a study of the geologicalstructure of this whole North Country, the direction of the glacialdrift, and everything. Then we should have come in here prepared totravel a thousand miles and stay all summer, or for two summers, ifnecessary."

  "Hanged if I'll give it up," said Mac stubbornly. "However," he added,"we must certainly try to catch these black diamonds, and we can keepon prospecting at the same time."

  They uncached their outfit, pitched the tent again, and preparedsupper; meanwhile they talked of the foxes until they reached a highpitch of enthusiasm. Even Mac admitted that the black foxes bade fairto be as profitable as a small diamond-bed would be. As for Fred, itwas almost with relief that he let the diamond hunt take second placein his mind. The continual strain of labor and failure had robbed thesearch for the blue clay of much of its fascination.

  Early the next morning they paddled up the river to the point whereMac's blazed trail came down to the shore, and set out to reconnoiterthe den. After half an hour's tramping across the woods they reachedthe rocky ridge; through the field-glass they scrutinized the lair,which was about two hundred yards away.

  Not a hair of a fox was in sight, but the burrow looked as if it couldbe opened with spade and pick. Horace thought they ought to do thatfirst of all; in that way they could capture the cubs before there wasany possible danger of the old foxes' moving the den.

  On their way back to camp, Mac stopped at a marshy pool and cut a greatarmful of willow withes.

  "It's lucky that I once used to watch an old willow worker makingbaskets and chairs," he said. "I'll see if I've forgotten the trick ofit. We've got to make a cage, for we'll need one the instant wecapture one of those cubs."

  He made a strong framework of birch, with bars as thick as his wrist,which he notched together, and lashed with deer-hide. Then he had theframework of a box about three feet long, two feet wide, and two feetdeep, through which he now began to weave the tough, pliable withes.

  He did not altogether remember the trick of it, and he had to stopfrequently to plan it out. He worked all that afternoon, and continuedhis labor by firelight. He did not finish the cage until the middle ofthe next forenoon. It was rough-looking, but light, and nearly asstrong as an iron trunk, and had a door in the top.

  All that remained for them to do now was to catch the game. They ate ahasty luncheon, and carrying the cage, the trap, the axe, the spade andpick, two blankets, and the guns, started back along Mac's blazedtrail. So great was their eager hurry that they stumbled over rootsand stones.

  Clambering down the ravine, they cautiousl
y approached the foxes' den.The opening to the burrow was a triangular hole between two flat rocks.From it came a faint odor of putrid flesh. The ground in front wasstrewn with muskrat tails, small bones, and the beaks and feet ofpartridges and ducks. From the rocks Fred picked off two or threeblack hairs.

  The boys looked into the dark hole and listened intently. They couldnot hear a sound, but they knew that the cubs, at any rate, must bewithin. Mac cut a sapling, trimmed it down and sharpened one end ofit; with that as a lever the boys loosened the rocks at the entrance ofthe burrow, and rolled them aside. The burrow ran backward anddownward into the ground, but there seemed to be nothing in their waynow except earth, gravel, and roots. Horace picked up the spade andbegan to dig; occasionally he had to stop to cut a tree root or pickout a rock. Meanwhile, Peter and Fred stood close behind him, ready tostuff the blankets into the hole in case the occupants should try tobolt.

  They uncovered the burrow for about four feet; then they had todislodge another rather large stone. There seemed to be a large, darkcavity down behind it. When they stopped to listen, they could hear aslight sound of movement in the darkness, and a faint squeaking.

  "They're there," said Horace; "not a yard away. Now who's going toreach in and pull 'em out?"

  Macgregor volunteered at once; he crept up to the hole and cautiouslythrust in his arm. There was a sound of scrambling inside and a sharpsqueal. Mac, with a strained expression on his face, groped about withhis hand inside the hole.

  When he withdrew his arm, there was blood on his hand, but he held bythe neck a little jet-black animal with a bushy tail, as large as akitten.

  "Open the cage--quick!" he cried.

  Fred held the door up, and Mac dropped the cub in. For a moment theanimal rushed from side to side, and then crouched trembling in acorner.

  "Nipped me on the thumb," said Mac, examining his hand. "They've gotteeth like needles. But the old one doesn't seem to be there now, andI can easily get the rest."

  He fished the second out without being bitten, and caged it safely.But his hold on the third cub could not have been very secure, for thelittle creature managed by struggling frantically to squirm out of hishand. It turned over in the air, landed on its four feet, and dartedswiftly away.

  The boys shouted in dismay. Fred flung himself sprawling upon the cub;but it evaded him like lightning, and bolted into the undergrowth. Itwould have been useless to pursue it.

  The boys were greatly chagrined.

  "It was my fault," said Peter, in disgust. "But it can't be helpednow, and there's another to come out."

  He had trouble in getting hold of the last of the cubs. Twice hewinced with pain as the animal bit him, but at last he hauled it intoview. It was a little larger than the others; it scratched and bitlike a fury, and nearly broke away before they got it into the cage.

  The boys gathered round and gloated over their prizes. With theirglossy jet coats, bushy tails, prick-eared faces, and comical air ofintense intelligence, the cubs were beautiful little creatures; butthey were all in a desperate panic, and huddled together in thefarthest corner of the cage.

  "If we can only get them home in good condition they should be worthfifteen thousand," said Horace. "But I'm much afraid they won't liveunless we can get the mother to travel with them. But now that we havethe cubs it should be rather easy to catch her, and maybe the father,too."

  They set the cage back into the hollow made by the ruined burrow, andlaid spruce branches over it so that it was well hidden. Then theywrapped the jaws of the trap with strips of cloth so that they wouldnot cut the fox's skin, and set it directly in front of the cage.Finally they scattered dead leaves over the trap. The cubs themselveswould act as bait.

  "A fox never deserts her young," Horace said. "She's sure to come backto-night, probably along with her mate, to carry off the cubs, andwe've a good chance to catch one or both of them."

  It seemed dangerous to go away and leave that precious cageful oflittle foxes at the mercy, perhaps, of the beaver trappers; perhapsprowling lynxes or wolves. However, the boys had to take the risk. Asto the trappers, they had seen nothing of them for so long that theyhad little fear of them.

  They went back to camp and tried to pass the time; but they could talkof nothing except black foxes. Fred conceived the idea of using theirstock to start a breeding establishment of their own, and Macgregor waselaborating the plan, when suddenly he stopped with a frown.

  "Is it so certain that the parents of those cubs are black?" he asked."I've heard that black foxes are an accident, a sport, and that themother or father is very often red."

  "That's something that naturalists have never settled," replied Horace."Some think that the black fox is a distinct strain, others that it'smerely a 'sport,' as you say. However, when all the cubs in the litterare pure black, I think it's safe to assume that the parents are blackalso."

  It was scarcely daylight the next morning before the boys were hurryingalong the blazed trail again. Shaking with suppressed excitement, theyapproached the ravine of the foxes. When they came in sight of the denand the cage their anticipation was succeeded by bitter disappointment.The trap was undisturbed. Nothing had been caught. The cubs werestill in the cage, as frightened as ever.

  But they found that one at least of the old foxes had visited theplace, for the dry leaves were disturbed; there were marks of sharpteeth on the willows of the cage, and inside the cage were the tails ofa couple of wood mice. Unable to get her cubs out of the cage, themother had brought them food.

  It seemed too bad to take advantage of her mother love, but as Horaceremarked, all they desired was to restore her to her family; once onthe fox ranch, she would be treated like a queen.

  They put the cage farther back and piled rocks round it, so that itcould be approached only by one narrow path. In the path they placedthe trap, and again covered it carefully with leaves.

  The cubs had to be left for another night, and the boys had anotherhard day of waiting. None of them had the heart to try to prospect.Macgregor went after ducks with the shotgun; the others lounged about,and killed time as best they could. They all went to bed early, andbefore sunrise again started for the den.

  It was fully light when they came to the hill over the ravine, and asthey sighted the den, a cry of excitement broke from all three of themat once.

  From where they stood they could see the cage, and the crouching formof a black animal beside it, evidently in the trap. And over the beastwith the dark fur stood a man in a buckskin jacket, with a club raisedto strike.