Bob Hunt in Canada

by George W. Orton

Just then Mr. Waterman broke in by asking Joe if this was not the lake where he had had such an experience with wolves some years before. Joe nodded. The boys immediately wanted to know the story. Bob sat down by Joe and was soon lost as he listened to the vivacious tale of the French habitant.

"That isn't fair," said Bill, to no one in particular.

"What isn't fair?" asked Mr. Anderson.

"Why, Bob knows French, so he is having Joe tell him the wolf story. We'd like to know that too."

"It is really a fairly common occurrence; at least was some years ago in this country," said Mr. Anderson.

"But Bob will tell us, won't you?" said Pud, turning to him.

"Sure." So Bob began the interesting tale.

"Joe was up here with Pierre and another Indian hunting some years ago. The winter had been a very severe one with a wealth of snow. On this account, the wolves had been able to get but little to eat. They were then much more numerous than they are to-day. At that time there was a bounty on wolves and hundreds of heads were turned in to the government each winter and spring. Joe and his party were coming back to Escoumains after a good winter's hunt. They stopped on the next lake at a hunter's shack that was there at that time. As the weather promised to keep cold, they determined to stay there, feeling that if the spring should come with a rush that they would be able to get down to Escoumains, as it was only a week's journey distant.

"They therefore set their traps and went methodically about their business of gathering in the furry harvest made profitable to them through the desires of 'My Lady' in the large cities, whose fair necks must be covered and protected from even the cold autumn's breath. One fine day Joe set out to make the round of the traps. He had good luck and was going home about four o'clock in the afternoon, laden with two foxes and four rabbits. Joe was hurrying on, for there was no moon and the shades of night fall very early in these latitudes even in March. They had heard a wolf occasionally, but had felt no fear of them, so that when Joe heard the long-drawn note, he did not give it even a thought. He was intent on getting back before nightfall, so he failed to note that the howls were rapidly approaching.

"As he reached the surface of the lake, which was of course frozen tightly at that time of year, he was astonished to hear the howl of a wolf, immediately followed by other howls only a short distance in his rear. He hurried on, but before he could get across the lake, he saw several dark forms dash out on the ice behind him. He broke into a run, but the pack rapidly overtook him. Raising his gun to fire, he was thunderstruck to find that in some way he had jammed the trigger and that it would not work.