Bob Hunt in Canada

by George W. Orton

"He did not have any time to waste, so he threw down two rabbits and hurried on. The wolves stopped only a moment, when they came to the rabbits. He could hear them snarling and quarreling over their small carcasses. He felt his blood run cold and wondered if he was to be torn to pieces in like manner. Once more the pack came on, so he threw another couple of rabbits to them and ran ahead. They got quite near to him the next time, so he dropped the remainder of his load and fled for the shore. He felt that his only chance lay in getting ashore and up a tree. As he ran he tried to fix the trigger of his gun, but he could not get it working. He was quite near the shore now, but the wolves were close behind. With a last desperate rush, he sprang up the steep bank. Turning around, he was just in time to strike down with his clubbed gun a big gray form that leaped at him with gleaming fangs. This lucky stroke probably saved Joe's life, for the rest of the pack stopped to devour their comrade, thus giving Joe time to get safely into the branches of a tree. The wolves, now with bloody mouths and glaring eyeballs, surrounded the tree and let out howls of such fierceness that they made Joe tremble even though he knew that he was safe for the present. He was only about a mile and a half away from their shack, and he knew that if he did not turn up, that sooner or later Pierre would be out to hunt him.

"But, can you imagine how pleasant it must be to be up in a tree, with broken gun, a dozen hungry wolves beneath you and a cold night coming on? Already Joe began to get very cold, for in his race across the lake through the heavy snow he had broken out into a heavy perspiration. As darkness came down he could feel the cold hand of King Frost, as it were, reaching for him and trying to throw him down to the beasts below. This idea took possession of Joe's mind and he fought it off with all his strength. He tried as best he could in the gathering darkness to fix his gun, but it was hopelessly jammed. At last he gave this up and settled down to wait for the morning, which would surely bring Pierre to his rescue.

"As the cold became greater, his desire to sleep became the stronger. He felt himself nodding several times and once awoke just as he was on the point of falling from the tree. He grabbed a branch lower down, but his feet swung beneath and before he could get back safely on the limb one of the watchful band below by a mighty leap snapped at his leg and took a piece cleanly out of the calf, tearing his trousers leg almost entirely off him. The smell of the blood put the wolves into a frenzy and they tried again and again to reach him by leaping. They seemed maddened by hunger, for when one of their number fell after making a mighty upward bound, the pack was on him in a minute, and before the horrified eyes of Joe, they tore their mate to pieces and in ten minutes there was neither hide nor hair of him to be seen.

"Joe now had to bind up his leg as best he could. He bound the rags of his trouser leg around so that it kept out the cold pretty well. This excitement kept him up for some time, but about twelve o'clock Joe felt that the cold was sure to get the better of him if he did not do something. He thereupon undid the leather strap that he used ordinarily to carry his gun over his back when not in use. This strap, together with his belt, made a strap sufficiently long so that he was able to bind himself to the tree. He then felt easier, for he knew that at least, even though he went to sleep, that he would run no risk of falling down as prey for the murderous pack below. He wondered if he would be able to stand the cold night or whether when Pierre came in the morning he might not find him stark and rigid, tied to the branch of the tree.

"He shuddered as he remembered the gruesome sight he had once noted far to the north one day. Then, on one of his fishing expeditions, he had come upon the body of a man hanging in a tree, evidently treed by wolves and then frozen. He wondered if some chance passer-by in after years would find his skeleton in a similar way and would pass on with only a 'Dieu benisse' (May God bless) as he had done, and not even give him decent burial. He commenced to think that his present position was directly due to his haste on this former occasion. He begged God to forgive him and promised to burn a hundred candles for the soul of the unknown if he ever got back to Escoumains.

"At last human strength could hold out no longer and Joe fell asleep, asleep with the cold, that forerunner of death. Joe knew nothing until he awoke in the cabin with Pierre busy about him. It seems that when he did not return Pierre had gotten uneasy. He and his mate had started out. With pine torches they followed his trail, and when they saw the numerous wolf tracks they feared for the worst. They followed across the ice and were themselves attacked by the pack. Their guns soon put them to flight and a few minutes later they found Joe insensible up in the tree. They hurried him back to the hut and in a few days Joe was none the worse for his experience except for the painful wound on his leg made by the champion high jumper of the pack."

"Are there any wolves up here now?" asked Pud, as he looked out into the forest with its dark avenues of trees.

"Not so many," replied Mr. Anderson, "but Sandy, down at Escoumains, told me the other day that they were getting numerous again, and that a bounty had once more been put on their heads."

"Don't be dreaming of wolves and pounce on me again, as you did when dreaming of bears," laughed Bob.

"Yes, to bed, to bed, now," cried Mr. Waterman. "I'm sure we all need the rest, for we have had a great day."