The hunter, climbing the rock, drew near, intending, if possible, to capture one of the kids alive. No sooner did the mother chamois observe him, than, dashing at him furiously, she endeavoured to hurl him with her horns down the cliff. The hunter, knowing that he might kill her at any moment, drove her off, fearing to fire, lest the young ones should take to flight.
He was aware that a deep chasm existed beyond them, by which he believed the escape of the animals to be cut off. What was his surprise, therefore, when he saw the old chamois approach the chasm, and, stretching out her fore and hind-legs, thus form with her body a bridge across it!
As soon as she had done this, she called on her young ones, and they sprang, one at a time, on her back, and reached the other side in safety! By a violent effort, she sprang across after them, and soon conducted her charges beyond the reach of the hunter’s bullets.
Trust your mother: she, in most cases, will find means to help you out of trouble.
The captured Wolf.
I have very little to say in favour of wolves. They are generally as cowardly in their adversity as they are savage when at liberty. I give you the following story, however, which I believe to be true.
An English sportsman had been hunting during the winter in Hungary. He was returning in a sleigh one evening to the village where he was to remain for the night, the peasant owning the sleigh sitting behind, and a boy driving. As they passed the corner of a wood, a wolf was seen to rush out of it and give chase. The peasant shouted to the boy, “A wolf, a wolf! Drive on, drive on!” Obeying the order, with whip and shout the boy urged the horses to full speed. One glance round showed him the savage animal close behind. The wolf was gaining upon them fast. The village was scarcely two hundred yards off! The owner, however, saw that the wolf would be upon them before they could reach it. Frantically they shouted, pursuing their impetuous career.
Taking another glance behind him, the peasant saw the fierce, panting beast about to make his fatal spring. A thought struck him. Seizing the thick sheep-skin which covered the sleigh, he threw it over his head. Scarcely had he done so when the wolf sprang upon his back, and gripped hold of the skin. In an instant more it would have been
torn from him, when, raising both his hands, he grasped the wolf’s head and neck with all his strength, hugging him with an iron clutch to his shoulders. “On—on!” he shouted to the almost paralysed driver. The courageous fellow still holding his fierce assailant in a death-gripe, the sleigh swept into the village. The inhabitants, hearing the shouts, rushed forth from their huts, and seeing the perilous condition of their friends, gave chase with axes in their hands. No sooner had the boy slackened the speed of his horses, than the men rushed at the savage animal, still held captive, and quickly despatched it. Not without difficulty, however, could the brave peasant, after the exertion he had undergone, loosen his arms from the neck of the wolf.