"And now comes the wolf story I promised; it was told to me by a Russian officer some years ago, and I will endeavor to give it as nearly as possible in his own words. Imagine that he is talking to you as he talked to me:
"'I was stopping for a part of the winter at the house of a fellow-officer near Vilna, where he had a large estate. His name was Selmanoff, and he was noted for his excellent horsemanship and his love for all kinds of hunting sport.
"'The winter was one of the worst that had been known for a long while, and two or three times we heard of travellers through the forest having been pursued by wolves. Of course this led to a wolf hunt, which Selmanoff proposed and I heartily accepted.
"We made our preparations, selecting a broad sledge open all around, and formed of wicker-work, so that it was light as well as strong. We carried two short, smooth-bore guns of large calibre—rifles are not desirable on these hunts, as it is impossible to take accurate aim from the moving sledge in the moonlight. The guns were breech-loaders, and the charge was a heavy one of buck-shot and ball.
"We had two horses, young and powerful beasts, and the driver was one of the best on the estate. After dining heartily we started about sunset and drove some twenty miles or so into the middle of the forest, over a good road which had been trodden by the peasants carrying their produce to the market at the nearest town. Our decoy pig lay quietly among the furs, and gave no sign of his presence save an occasional grunt of dissatisfaction at his uncomfortable position.
A SIBERIAN WOLF.
"'At the spot where the hunt was to begin we turned about and threw out our bag of hay; then we twisted the pig's ear and he protested with a loud squeal.