I caught lots of them. Their skins brought twenty cents
apiece in the town, so that I was really quite independent. I
made often as much as a dollar overnight with my traps, and then
had the whole day to myself in the hills, where I waylaid many a
fat rabbit or squirrel and an occasional bird.
[Illustration: "There I set my traps"]
The one thing that marred my enjoyment of this life of freedom
was my vain struggle to master the art of cookery in its elements.
To properly get the hang of that, and of housekeeping in general,
two heads are needed, as I have found out since--one of them with
curls and long eyelashes. Then it is fine fun; but it is not good
for man to tackle that job alone. Goodness knows I tried hard
enough. I remember the first omelet I made. I was bound to get it
good. So I made a muster-roll of all the good things Mrs. Romer
had left in the house, and put them all in. Eggs and strawberry
jam and raisins and apple-sauce, and some sliced bacon--the way I
had seen mother do with "egg pancakes." But though I seasoned it
liberally with baking-powder to make it rise, it did not rise.
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