Well, I went down to Dubrofda, prepared to stay for a week. I found that Michael was away, trying to secure a family of elk, which he had followed for several days. The under-keeper, Gavril, was there, however, and under his auspices I hoped to find sport, though he informed me sadly, on my arrival, that he had not seen wolves for several days. 'They came into the village after straying dogs one night,' he said, 'and pulled down a sheep of old Ivan Trusof's. Ivan fired his old blunderbuss at them, and the noise seems to have scared them away. To-morrow I will try after them, and if that fails we must see whether a squeal-pig will attract them.'
'A squeal-pig?' I repeated, laughingly; 'what in the world is that?'
Gavril glanced at me in some displeasure. 'It is a common way of hunting the wolves,' he said. 'Perhaps the method is not known in England.'
I explained that the last English wolf was killed many years ago. Then Gavril described the process which he had called the squeal-pig method of wolf-hunting.
'You get a very young pig,' he said, 'and put it into a sack. Now, no pig likes being put into a sack, and when a pig does not like a thing he squeals as though he were being killed. The sportsmen drive slowly through the wood by night, and all the while the pig is making a terrible din—a din that can be heard a mile or two away. If there is one thing in the world that a wolf prefers above another, as a delicacy, it is pork. Every wolf in the forest hears the yelling of the pig, and comes to see what is the matter, and whether there is a chance of any pork for supper. Sometimes the beasts become so excited that they will come quite close to the sledge in which the pig is squealing in its bag. Then comes the chance of the man with the gun.'
'Good,' said I, 'that sounds all right; we will try it to-morrow night. Is there a pig to be had?'
'Anton's sow has a litter a month or two old. I will buy one—a rouble will purchase it.'
Gavril procured the pig, and brought it safely housed in a small sack. It was squealing when he brought it, and I may say, without exaggeration, that so long as that pig and I were together, it never ceased for more than a second to give vent to its feeling of disgust and anger at the treatment to which it was subjected.
'I chose it for its voice,' said Gavril, grinning; 'the wolves prefer loud music; they come miles to hear it!'
Then we settled ourselves in the extremely comfortable village sledge which Gavril had brought with him, and started for our midnight drive.