A wolf had gone around another at a safe distance.
Another had been shunned several times by a fox or by foxes, but they had come again and again and at last yielded to the temptation to investigate the danger-smell; finally had rolled in it, evidently wallowing in an abandon of delight.

So far, the plan was working there.
The next move was to set the six strong fox traps, each thoroughly smoked, and chained to a fifteen-pound block of wood.
Approaching the place carefully and using his blood-rubbed glove, Quonab set in each ash pile a trap.

Under its face he put a wad of white rabbit fur.

Next he buried all in the ashes, scattered a few bits of rabbit and a few drops of smell-charm, then dashed snow over the place, renewed the dangling feathers to lure the eye; and finally left the rest to the weather.
Rolf was keen to go the next day, but the old man said: "Wah! no good! no trap go first night; man smell too strong." The second day there was a snowfall, and the third morning Quonab said, "Now seem like good time." The first trap was untouched, but there was clearly the track of a large fox within ten yards of it.
The second was gone.

Quonab said, with surprise in his voice, "Deer!" Yes, truly, there was the record.