"I struck furiously at the brute."
ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
By Harold Ericson.
IX.—A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.
H, yes,' said Bobbie Oakfield, a night or two after Vandeleur's story of the plucky Japanese sailor; 'that young Hayashi was a smart fellow, and as brave as they make them; but as you have blown the Japanese trumpet, I think it is only fair I should blow a Russian one, if only to show that the Russians can be, in an emergency, as brave as the Japs themselves, which is the same as saying as brave as any man on this earth, not excepting an Englishman of the true kind!'
Well, I was in Russia—I have been many times, as you know, getting a little big or other game-shooting from my relations there. On this occasion there were reports up from my cousin's 'shoot' of wolves having been seen about; it was a cold season, and that is the kind of season in which the sportsman gets a good chance of adding a wolf-skin or two to his collection, for they become more accessible—tamer perhaps, certainly bolder—when it is cold. It is not a matter of choice with the poor creatures, but of stern necessity; they must come nearer to the villages, because food is difficult to obtain elsewhere. My cousin could not respond to Michael the keeper's invitation to come down and make a battue for the wolves. 'You can go by yourself if you like,' he said to me; 'Michael will make you comfortable, and if there are any wolves he will show them to you. Don't miss them, if he brings you within range, for that is an unpardonable crime in Michael's eyes, and he would never forgive you!'