His chums were busy about camp, cleaning their guns, bringing in wood or water, and "slicking up" generally, and so paid little attention to Ned. It wasn't until half an hour afterward that, hearing startled cries in the woods, from the direction of a little clearing where rabbits were numerous, that Bart exclaimed:
They ran to the place, and saw a curious sight. Ned was lying on the snow-covered ground, his hands stretched toward a sapling while his feet seemed encased in the box at which he had been working a short time previous.
"Get me loose first, and I'll tell you," cried Ned.
"Fast? Of course I am! Can't you see for yourself. I'm caught by my hands and feet in some rabbit traps I was setting."
"Serves you right," commented Bart, trying not to laugh. "You ought to be a sportsman, and shoot your game."
"I didn't want to shoot 'em," explained Ned. "I wanted to catch 'em alive and tame 'em. Hurry up and get me out; will you, fellows?"
They soon released him. His feet were caught under a box, which was weighted down with rocks, while his hands were held in a slip-noose of heavy cord that was fast to the tree, which had been bent over to act as a spring. Ned was stretched out like a prisoner "pegged-out" in the army. He was soon released, and explained that as he was setting the noose trap, his feet had unexpectedly gotten under the box trap, which was sprung, and then the noose slipped, holding him fast at both ends.
"Well," remarked Bart, as they walked back to camp with Ned, "there's no use setting any traps now, Ned. The rabbits were watching you, and they saw just how they worked, so you couldn't catch the simplest bunny in these woods."
"I'll make another kind of trap," declared Ned. "I want a rabbit to keep Fenn's turtle company."
"Don't bother about it," said Fenn, dryly.
"Because my turtle got away in the night. He went back to the boiling spring, to join the others for a New Year's celebration, I guess."
"That's so, to-morrow is the last day of this year," observed Frank. "We ought to celebrate it in some way."
"We will," said Bart. "We'll sit up, and watch the old year out and the new one in, and fire our guns off at twelve o'clock. But what's the matter, Stumpy?" for Fenn was holding the arm injured by the buck, and on his face was an expression of pain.