Rat wended his way down to the bank under the bridge, where he had left his push boat, followed by the faithful Spot, and poled his way up stream. When he reached the vicinity of the stranded house boat, where he had lived for several years, he reconnoitered it cautiously. No malign presence was detected. He looked over his bee hives that were scattered about among the trees, and provided two or three week’s food supplies for his chickens, and some young coons and weasles, that he was raising for their fur in some wire cages under the house. He then packed a few necessaries into his boat, and secured the door of the house with a padlock. He was not quite satisfied that the trapper, who was looking for Spot, had left the country, and he did not intend to take any chances. The dog was ordered to lie down in the bow of the canoe, where he was carefully covered. The intelligent animal complied cheerfully with all of the arrangements. Rat then proceeded down the river for several miles to the big marsh, where he did the most of his trapping during the late fall, winter, and spring. He had two motives for his trip, besides the idea of avoiding a possible visit of the trapper to the house boat. One was to see if the muskrat population on the marsh had increased properly during the summer, and the other was to visit Malindy Taylor, whom he deeply loved, and by whom he was scorned as a suitor. Malindy was a peppery widow of about forty, who lived with her aged mother in a small house beyond the marsh. She was the owner of a wild duck farm, and conducted it with such success that Rat looked forward to spending his declining days in peace and comfort if he could persuade Malindy to take him into life partnership. Many hundreds of mallards and teal nested among the boggy places in the marsh during the summer. The eggs were gathered, put into incubators, and under complaisant hens on the farm. The ducklings were reared in wired enclosures that prevented them from joining their kind in the skies when the fall migrations began. During the game season, when they were properly matured, they were skilfully strangled and shipped away as wild birds at game prices. Rat had always willingly hunted nests and gathered eggs for his beloved. He did odd jobs about the farm and participated in everything but the harvest. Like Jacob of old, toiling for the hand of Rachael, Rat’s industry, although intermittent, was sustained by alluring hope.