Sally looked sideways at her friend, and then approaching the small black droppings, she smelled them. Smells like . . . .”
“Ah, ah,” Buttons broke in. “None of that. We’ve got work to do, remember.”
Sally grinned in anticipation. “Boy, I bet that trapper was surprised when he found his traps already sprung and there were no animals in them.”
Buttons would have smiled, too, but it was not a fun time. It was dangerous, and great harm had already been done by the trapper. She reminded Sally of it as they moved toward the forest.
“Just keep in mind what has happened already. The trapper is as mean as his traps are unforgiving. They take rabbit, weasel, wolves, and otters alike. He particularly likes to trap and kill beavers.”
Sally sighed. “Yes, I know,” she said. “Does take some of the fun out of it, doesn’t it. I spoke to Dodger the otter and he’ll let us know if and when he shows along the waterways.”
Buttons grunted her assent. Both had passed the word around both the forest and field, but many small animals remained forgetful and careless, too busy with simply finding food to worry about something most had never heard about in the first place. Still, it had helped some, like the otters and the coyotes who were normally careful. They could understand the trapper taking some for food, but just for the skins. It made no sense to most.
So, today, they were going trap-hunting again. The trapper had gone, the birds having seen him return to his large truck, taking some time to beat his dog who was tied to the truck in order to protect it and warn him of any passersby. He had found the gaunt dog asleep and had taken his usual meanness out on the helpless dog. Both Sally and Buttons had bridled in anger when they had been told. Well, they would fix matters. Sooner or later, they would set the matter right so that the many and varied creatures of the forest, swamp, field, and river could live their lives in freedom.
As they moved forward, the maples gave way slowly to towering fir. Moss hung from the other taller trees in great garlands. The air, which had been quiet and nearly motionless, became increasingly damp. A small, musty breeze broke out, moving the dangling moss slowly to and fro. They were approaching the swamp, and like the air, the ground became soggy also. Small puddles of water appeared on either side of the trail. The bounding tracks of the playful and nosy weasel appeared first at one side and then the other, clearly showing the dogs the weasel’s forward and careless rush.
The two dogs suddenly halted. Sally started to move to one side, her keen nose to the ground.
“Do you smell a trap?”
Buttons in turn moved to the right, away from Sally. Their keen sense of smell was focused on the ground immediately in front of them as they moved forward warily, each step carefully placed.
Sally froze in motion, one forepaw still held above the ground. Buttons stopped also. This was the critical time. No movement forward until they were absolutely sure.
Sally sang out, “Ha! I’ve got one. Over here, Buttons.”
Buttons turned across the trail which was now broken by tufts of grass and the debris of dead and fallen leaves. She carefully stepped through the littered path over to where Sally pawed the moist ground. Both dogs gingerly nosed the ground, turning up small rows of fresh dirt. They stopped a short distance from the main trail. Checking with one another, they began to dig furiously. Because of her strong forelegs and broad paws, Buttons did most of the work, the ground flying backwards from her in a brown spray of dirt and leaves.
It was but a moment before a solid, round, wooden stake was uncovered.
Sally shouldered her way in front of Buttons. “Move over, Buttons. I’ve got it now.”
From past experience, they both knew that what they sought would lie toward the path. With measured strokes, Sally dug inches from the stake, until a link of metal chain appeared. Both sat back to admire their handy work.
“Not bad,” Sally piped in. “Didn’t take too long this time.”
“Nope,” Buttons agreed as she uncovered more of the chain.
Then, the two dogs grasped it and pulled together, hunching their shoulders as they tugged at the metal links. Slowly more and more of the chain appeared as it was torn up from its shallow cover of dirt. It snaked around a hillock of grass and stopped in the middle of the trail.
“Now, altogether.”
With one yank, the gaping jaws of a black and evil-appearing trap burst into view. It lay precisely in the middle of the trail, its wicked teeth waiting for the unwary. Weasel’s track lay but scant inches away.
“Wow, that was a close one,” Sally muttered. “Come on, Buttons. Now, for the worst part.”
The two took a few deep breaths then broke from the trail and moved off into the trees. Buttons reappeared first, dragging a stout limb. She puffed out small clouds of dirt as she moved forward. Stopping, she dropped the limb as she yelled for Sally who shortly appeared.
They sat as they looked from branch to trap. Sally heaved a sigh. “Let’s not hurry this one. That thing smells all wrong.”
Together, the two picked up the thick limb and moved toward the trap. They laid the solid branch along the lethal jaws and sat again while they surveyed the scene. Sally moved forward and peered closely at the metal contraption lying at her feet. Simple in design, it was easily tripped by an unwary step, the jaws snapping suddenly closed about a leg, or even the muzzle, of an unknowing inspector. Sally was worried more than usual as Buttons could sense. They knew one another very well-moods, likes, and dislikes. Something was wrong, that much was clear. Buttons moved slowly forward.
She stopped short of the jaws. “Move back, Sally. Give me a better view of it. Please. I’m worried, too.”
Sally glanced at her friend and nodded in agreement. The danger was ever-present and anything could go wrong in a very brief second.
Buttons moved up, and then very slowly moved around the trap, carefully eyeing it from every possible angle.
“Sally, you’re right.” Buttons’s eyes glittered as she motioned to the beagle. “Take a look from here.”
Buttons stepped backwards, giving Sally an opportunity to look at the trap. Sally stood for a moment as she carefully contemplated the metal enemy. It was only a contraption, but nonetheless, it could kill in an instant at the least bit of carelessness.
“Ah, I see. Yes, that’s the problem. It’s been set so the lightest touch will release the jaws.” Sally nudged Buttons. “Either one of us could have bought it today.”
Buttons nodded in agreement. It was now a matter of tripping it without placing themselves in jeopardy. For the two dogs, it was not a simple procedure. Although they had solved the problem sometime in the past, this one was going to be trickier than usual.
Each grasped an end of the limb. It was heavy for the two, but some weight was necessary if it was to do the necessary job. They slowly maneuvered it over the trap and then began to lower it lengthwise between the jaws.
Buttons hissed between her teeth, “Slowly, slowly.”
Sally glanced at her friend. Both were worried and both knew it.
Buttons stepped back, letting her taller compatriot take one end in her strong teeth. Sally was nervous, for if the trap was sprung a second too soon, the limp would and could do serious damage to her as it snapped upward or in some other unpredictable direction. The trapper had been clever, more clever this time, obviously having taken painstaking care in setting the trap.
Sally slowly backed up, dragging the limb across the trap. When the opposite end had reached the edge of the gaping jaws, Buttons gave a short yip of warning. This was the critical moment. Sally had to move the limb a scant fraction of an inch, letting the end fall on the center of the trap, just as she let go of it. The timing would be critical.
Sally then began to raise her end as high as she could and took another step backward. This was the moment. The tip fell off the edge of the trap to drop into the center of the jaws, which suddenly snapped about the limb. Sally had let go as she fe
lt the end come off the edge of the jaws. And well that she had done so, for the limb snapped upward as it was snared by the jaws. Both dogs involuntarily jumped.
“Wow, no matter how often we do it, it still scares me,” Buttons murmured.
Sally quietly agreed as both looked at their success. She thought of the terrible damage the end of the limb might have done to her mouth as it had jerked upward. She would have to be more careful in the future or they would have to come up with another approach. Neither one seemed desirable in any case.
Still, they continued with their rounds, carefully making their way along the many tortuous paths that led through the forest toward the swamp. The trails were relatively easy for the two to follow because the trapper stink was very characteristic. While he could make their task more difficult, they were up to the challenge and the danger. Only afterwards would they celebrate. For now, it was good enough to survive without injury.
However, it was a close thing. On one occasion, they had found the stake very easily. They should have stopped and reconsidered their situation, but being young, they didn’t. Buttons almost paid with her life. As Sally grabbed hold of the stake, her jerk caused another trap to go off. Fortunately for Buttons, she was shorter than even the trapper could have guessed, and the trap had snapped shut scant inches from her tail.
Both had whirled to confront the new danger, and their inspection quickly showed that the second trap had been carefully laid for anyone monkeying with the stake to a larger trap which was to be found in the middle of the nearest path.
Buttons had cocked an eyebrow as she surveyed her black rump. She giggled nervously as she said, “Wow, it’s short enough as it is. I don’t need that.”
Sally had giggled in response, then she simply collapsed as the grim humor of the situation got to her. “First broken, then chomped. You really don’t need it.”
“So tell me!” Buttons had shot back grimly, and then she, too, caught the infectious humor in it all and had joined Sally in laughter.
However, they were more cautious than ever as they dismantled one trap after another. During a break, as they laid in the shade of a large bush, they heard words of a quiet discussion. Their ears immediately perked up and they carefully made their way toward the speakers.
As they broke into the open, they could see a small and pert sparrow sitting on a branch which hung close to the ground. Sally turned to Buttons, “Yep, you were right. It’s Ms. Lucie. And if she’s here, then . . .”
Before Sally could complete her statement, there was a loud crooooak immediately behind them. Both leaped upward and forward as they whirled to confront a large frog whom they immediately recognized.
Ms. Lucie chuckled, “Will you two never learn?”
Buttons frowned at first, not pleased at being taken by surprise. But then both she and Sally joined in laughter with Ms. Lucie for, of course, it was Rarebit, the frog. He and Ms. Lucie were often to be found in discussion of some arcane bit of knowledge, usually about the swamp. And, of course, Rarebit liked nothing better than to surprise the two dogs by suddenly appearing behind them as he croaked as loudly as possible.
Ms. Lucie smiled at the two dogs who were always to be found in one another’s company. “And what mischief are we up to now?” She cocked her head as she waited for an answer.
Sally then described what they had done, much to the approval of both Ms. Lucie and Rarebit. Their praise was most gratifying to Buttons and Sally because Ms. Lucie was far quicker with her warnings and faultfindings.
As the two nodded their gratitude and were about to leave, Rarebit spoke up. “Buttons, Sally, be careful around the swamp. Strange things have been happening there.”
Buttons had laughed. “Not to worry, Ms. Lucie. We can take care of ourselves.”
Ms. Lucie now truly frowned. She jabbed the air with her beak. “Take heed, my sassy young lady. Rarebit is rarely wrong on such matters. Do be careful.”
Sally nodded reassuringly. But both wanted to get away from the small sparrow as quickly as possible. “Don’t worry. We’ll be very careful. Truly,” they both said as they moved quickly into the deeper parts of the forest, heading unerringly for the swamp.
Frog and sparrow were soon lost to sight, and as quickly forgotten. The day was getting on. They moved off toward a sandy shore, and refreshing themselves in a particularly clean pool, they relaxed in the warm afternoon heat. The buzzing of mosquitoes and chirruping of other bugs came distantly to them, but nothing disturbed the calm breathlessness of the great body of water which lay at their side. The heat and their earlier efforts worked on both of them, and slowly they sank into a peaceful torpor, only the occasional twitching of their ears showing some degree of alertness.
It was some time later when Buttons opened her eyes ever so slightly because an odd odor was assailing her nostrils. It was dank and wet, but not altogether bad. It was quite familiar.
It was also different. A croaking “Hiridit, hiridit” sounded in her ear and she leaped alert, sending Sally tumbling to her feet also.
Buttons gasped and then said, “Oh, it’s you again, Rarebit. Boy, were you quiet.”
Suddenly, he leaped, sailing effortlessly over their head to splash in the shallow waters of the swamp. He surfaced, but only his goggling large eyes showed. They watched unblinking. Then he leaped again, this time landing directly in front of them.
“As I should be when strange creatures invade my wet and lovely domain.” He hummed to himself as his large eyes stared fixedly at them. Lean for a frog, he was smooth-skinned with varying shades of green. He seldom smiled, but Sally and Buttons knew his odd sense of humor. Both dogs loved him for his knowledge of the swamp and his inquiring mind.
“First,” Buttons said, “we are not strange, as you well know, and secondly, you might have announced yourself.”
Of course, he never did. Rarebit’s throat puffed in and out as he surveyed them, his eyes occasionally closing in their slow fashion. “You just saw me. In the swamp.” He stared even harder at them.
Sally frowned, her eyebrows coming together as she tried to keep up with Rarebit’s thinking. “Of course, we saw you. What’s the matter?”
Rarebit puffed and huffed some more, his eyes remaining fixed on them. “All of me?”
Buttons answered. “Of course not. Only your eyes.”
“Then you have the answer. There are other eyes just like that in the swamp, but much further apart.”
Both dogs laughed. “You’re repeating yourself again. You and Ms. Lucie just told us about something strange in the swamp. You’re both daft, you know.”
Rarebit suddenly leaped straight up, twisted in the air, and landed behind Sally, who in turn leaped sideways at the unexpected maneuver.
Rarebit watched Sally momentarily from his new position. “Gotcha!” With that he leaped into the swamp and sat there watching the two, who sat on the beach. “Remember.” He turned and disappeared, leaving hardly a ripple on the water’s surface.
Sally’s sides heaved with frustration. “So, help me. The next time he does that, I’m going to have frog legs for dinner.”
Buttons giggled. Rarebit was something of the area’s map maker and he knew the swamp like the back of his foot. He often discussed it with Ms. Lucie, but rarely disclosed much to the two dogs. In the past, both of them had suffered from Rarebit’s unpredictable antics. As they would walk along the water’s edge, he would appear seemingly out of the air—in front of them, behind them, or from behind a clump of reeds. At other times, they would find him busily sketching lines in the sand, stepping back to survey his handy work, dropping forward to erase some errant line, and then carefully redoing his previous effort, all the time humming to himself. As preoccupied as he appeared, he was never to be caught by surprise, try as they might.
On more than one occasion, they had crept up to the swamp, carefully maneuvering so that they approached from downwind. Circling with caution after they had located him, they would rush for
ward, barking furiously, only to find his expected location empty. Then, a sudden “Gotcha” would sound behind them and he would disappear into the swamp, chuckling in his throat.
At such times, Buttons and Sally would look sideways at one another and burst out laughing at their ridiculous failure.
Slowly shaking her head side to side in disgust, Sally glanced at Buttons. “Well, wonder where he’s off to now,” she queried. “And just what did he mean by his crazy actions?”
“Undoubtedly off to survey another cove in the swamp,” a small voice sounded above them.
Both looked up, startled by the clear, crisp speech. Bouncing gently in the breeze, an elegant but small bird perched on the overhanging branch of an oak tree. Very prim in appearance, she cocked her head and went on with scant interruption. “You well know that Rarebit must measure everything within reach.”
Buttons sat up and greeted the bird with a nod. “Good morning, again, Ms. Lucie. And how are you today?”
The sparrow appreciated decorous behavior almost as much as she insisted on perfection and a precise mind. Her speech was always well-modulated, though her discussions with Rarebit were famous for their biting comments.
She looked down. “Ah, Sally. And of course, Buttons.” She cocked her head to survey them the better, as though she hadn’t just seen them a bit earlier. This type of inspection always discomfited the two dogs, but they were getting used to it.
Buttons bristled, but only grunted again, “Morning, Ma’am.”
The genteel Ms. Lucie clearly preferred the slim and tidier beagle to the Scottish terrier who all too often looked quite ratty after a morning rambling about in the woods.
“And a good morning to you,” she replied. “Both.”
Sally bumped Buttons ever so slightly. Sitting very carefully, she said, “Rarebit was just here.”
“Yes, I know. I sent him. Leaping hither and yon, I imagine.”
The Adventures of Button Page 3
