With Trapper Jim in the North Woods | Page 5

it to be the only thing between himself and destruction.
"Look down, you loon!" cried Steve. "Call that a big drop? Why, I
declare the ground ain't more'n six inches down below your feet!
Shucks; did I ever hear the like!"
Toby did twist his neck the best he could and look. Then with a glad
cry he released his hold on the friendly root to fall in a heap.
"Let's get down to him," said Trapper Jim, "he must be pretty well used
up, I reckon. Perhaps he's been hangin' thar half an hour'n more."
"But whatever made him do such a silly thing?" asked Steve, as they
proceeded to go around the edge of the little "sink," led by the trapper,
who knew every foot of ground.
"Well, I don't know that it was so queer after all," declared Jim; "you
see, when he fell over here in the dark, how was Toby to know whether
he was hanging over a precipice ten feet deep or a hundred? All he
could do was to keep hold of that root and holler for help."
"And he did that to beat the band," declared Owen.
"I guess it was all real to him," the trapper went on to say; "and chances
are, when he heard the trickling of this little brook that runs through the
sink here, he thought it was a river away below him. Oh, I can feel for
Toby all right. I once had an experience myself something like his. But

here we are down. How're you feeling, son?"
"P-p-pretty r-r-rocky," declared Toby, who was sitting up when they
reached him, and seemed to be trembling all over, as the result of the
nervous strain to which he had been subjected.
"Don't blame you a bit," declared Max, who saw that the poor chap had
in truth suffered considerably. "Lots of fellows would have thought the
same as you did, Toby. I might myself, if I'd slipped down that way in
the dark. Here, grab hold with me, Steve, and we'll help Toby home."
"Anyhow," admitted Toby, as they put their arms about him, "I'm
g-g-glad you did c-c-come. R-r-reckon I'd f-f-fainted if I just had to let
g-g-go."
"Rats! I don't believe it," scoffed the unbelieving Steve.
Once they reached the trapper's cabin, and came under the cheerful
influence of that crackling fire, even Toby's spirits rose again. He had
by this time recovered some of his usual grit, and could afford to laugh
with the rest at his recent experience.
It was about as Trapper Jim suspected.
Toby had been tempted to follow the lame rabbit for some little
distance into the woods. Finally, finding that he had gone pretty far,
and with night closing in rapidly all around him, the boy had started to
return.
Becoming a little confused, he had stumbled one way and another, and
in the end fallen over the edge of the shallow sink.
Throwing out his hands even as he felt himself falling, he had caught
hold of the projecting root. Here he had hung, trying again and again to
climb up, but in vain; and quite sure that a terrible void lay beyond his
dangling legs.
At first Toby had been too alarmed to even think of calling for help.

But as time went by, and he realized the desperate nature of his
predicament, he tried to shout.
This was never an easy task to the stuttering boy, and doubtless he
made a sorry mess out of it.
But all's well that ends well. Toby had been gallantly rescued, and now
the five chums were doing their level best to assist Trapper Jim prepare
supper.
Would they ever forget the delights of that first meal under the roof of
the forest cabin? Often had they partaken of a camp dinner, but never
before had it seemed to have the same flavor as this one did,
surrounded as they were with those bunches of suggestive steel traps,
the furs that told of Jim's prowess in other days, and above all having
the presence of the grizzled trapper himself, a veritable storehouse of
wonderful information and thrilling experiences.
And after the meal was finished they made themselves as comfortable
as each could arrange it, using all Jim's furs in the bargain.
"Now, let's lay out the programme for to-morrow," suggested Max.
"Me to try for the first deer," spoke up Steve, quickly. "Squirrel stew,
like we had for supper to-night, is all very well, but it ain't in the same
class with fresh venison. Yum, yum, my mouth fairly waters for it,
boys!"
"Some like venison and some say gray nut-fed squirrels," remarked
Trapper Jim. "As for me, give me squirrel every time."
"But we ought to try and get one deer