Around the Camp-fire

  CHAPTER VII. THE CAMP ON THE TOLEDI.

  In the morning we set out at a reasonable hour, planning to camp thatnight at the foot of Toledi Lake. The last few miles of the SquatookRiver were easy paddling, save that here and there a fallen tree was inthe way. In passing these obstructions Stranion proved unlucky. Hiscanoe led the procession, with himself standing erect, alert, pole inhand, in the stern, while Queerman sat lazily in the bow. At length wesaw ahead of us a tree-trunk stretching across the channel. By duckingour heads down to the gunwales there was room to pass under it. ButStranion tried a piece of gymnastics, like a circus-rider jumpingthrough a hoop. He attempted to step over the trunk while the canoe waspassing under it. In this he partly succeeded. He got one foot over,according to calculation, and landed it safely in the canoe. But as forthe other—well, a malicious little projecting branch took hold of it bythe moccasin, and held on with the innate pertinacity of inanimatethings. The canoe wouldn’t wait, so Stranion remained behind with hiscaptive foot. He dropped head-first into the water, whence we rescuedhim.

  The next time we came to an obstruction of this kind Stranion didn’t tryto step over it. He stooped to go under it. But another malicious branchnow came to the front. The branch was long, strong, and sharp. Itreached down, seized the back of Stranion’s shirt, and almost draggedhim out of the canoe. Failing in this,—for Stranion’s blood was up,—itripped the shirt open, and ploughed a long red furrow down his back. Ittook an ocean of glycerine and arnica to assuage that wound.

  On the upper Toledi we found a brisk wind blowing. Hoisting improvisedsails, we sped down the lake without labor. On the lower lake (the twosheets of water are separated only by a short “thoroughfare”) the windfailed us, and we had to resume our paddling. It was late in a golden,hazy afternoon when we drew near the outlet.

  Here we overhauled an ancient Indian who had been visiting his traps upthe lake. We recognized him as one “Old Martin,” a well-known hunter andtrapper. He was plying his paddle with philosophic deliberation in thestern of the most dilapidated old canoe I have ever seen afloat. Hissalutation to us was a grunt; but when we invited him to camp near usand have a bit of supper with us he, quickly became more civil.

  Round the camp-fire that night, with a good supper comforting hisstomach, Old Martin forgot the red man’s taciturnity. Sam was busyfrying tobacco, while the rest of us lounged about in the glow, testingthe results of these culinary experiments. It will be remembered thatwhen the upset took place at Squatook Falls, our tobacco was almost allshut up in a certain tin box which we fondly fancied to be water-proof.When the little store in the other canoes was exhausted, we turned tothis tin box. Alas, that box was just so far water-proof as to let inthe water and keep it from running out! We found a truly delectable messinside. Sam had undertaken to dry this mess, out of which all the benignquality was pretty well steeped. He pressed it therefore, and rolled ittenderly, and spread it out in the frying-pan over a gentle fire, untilit was quite dry. But oh, it was not good to smoke! Keeping a little totrifle with, we bestowed all the rest of it upon the poor Indian, whoseuntutored mind led him to accept it gratefully. Perchance he threw itaway when our backs were turned.

  Suddenly Sam’s task was interrupted by a wailing, desolate, and terriblecry, coming apparently from the shores of the upper lake. We gazed ateach other with wide eyes, and instinctively drew nearer the fire; whileSam cried, “Ugh, what’s that? it must be Cerberus himself got loose!”Old Martin grunted, “Gluskâp’s hunting-dog! Big storm bime-by, mebbe!”He looked awed, but not afraid. He said it would not come near us. Itwas heard sometimes in the night and far off, as now, but no man of thepresent days had ever seen the dog. It ranged up and down throughoutthese regions, howling for its master, whom now it would never find. ForGluskâp had been struck down in a deep valley north of the St. Lawrence,and a mountain placed upon him, so that neither could he stir noranybody find him. So Martin explained that grim sound.

  We learned afterwards that the cry was one of the rarer utterances ofthe loon; but had any one told us so that night we would not havebelieved him. We preferred to accept the weird notion of the faithfulphantom hound seeking forever his vanished master, the beneficent Indiandemigod.

  About the time supper was done the weather had changed. While Sam wasfrying his tobacco, the soft summery sweetness fled from the air, and acold wind set in, blowing down out of the north. It was a strange andunseasonable wind, and pierced our bones. We heaped the camp-fire to athreefold height, and huddled in our blankets between the blaze and thelee of the tent. Then Stranion was called on for a story.

  TRACKED BY A PANTHER.

  “Boys,” said he, “the air bites shrewdly. It is a nipping and an eagerair. In fact, it puts me forcibly in mind of one of my best adventures,which befell me that winter when I was trapping on the Little Sou’westMiramichi.”

  “Oh, come! Tell us a good _summer_ story, old man,” interruptedQueerman. “I’m half-frozen as it is, to-night. Tell us about some placedown in the tropics where they have to cool their porridge with boilingwater.”

  “Nay,” replied Stranion; “my thoughts are wintry, and even so must mystory be.”

  He traced in the air a few meditative circles with his pipe (which herarely smoked, using it rather for oratorical effect), and thenresumed:—

  “That was a hard winter of mine on the Little Sou’west. I enjoyed it atthe time, and it did me good; but, looking back upon it now, I wonderwhat induced me to undertake it. I got the experience, and I indulged myhobby to the full; but by spring I felt like a barbarian. It is a finething, boys, as we all agree, to be an amateur woodsman, and it brings afellow very close to nature; but it is much more sport in summer than inwinter, and it’s better when one has good company than when he’s no oneto talk to but a preternaturally gloomy Melicite.

  “I had Noël with me that winter,—a good hunter and true, but about ascompanionable as a mud-turtle. Our traps were set in two great circuits,one on the south side of the stream, the other on the north. The rangeto the north was in my own charge, and a very big charge it was. When Ihad any sort of luck, it used to take me a day and a half to make theround; for I had seventeen traps to tend, spread out over a range ofabout twenty miles. But when the traps were not well filled, I used todo it without sleeping away from camp. It’s not much like play, I cantell you, tramping all day on snow-shoes through those woods, carryingan axe, a fowling-piece, food, ammunition, and sometimes a pack of furs.Whenever I had to sleep out, I would dig a big oblong hole in the snow,build a roaring fire at one end of the hole, bury myself in hemlockboughs at the other end, and snooze like a dormouse till morning. Irelied implicitly on the fire to keep off any bears or Indian devilsthat might be feeling inquisitive as to whether I would be good eating.

  “The snow must have been fully six feet deep that year. One morning nearthe last of February I had set out on my round, and had made some threemiles from our shanty, when I caught sight of a covey of partridges inthe distance, and turned out of my way to get a shot at them. It hadoccurred to me that perchance a brace of them might make savory morselsfor my supper. After a considerable _détour_, I bagged my birds, andrecovered my trail near the last trap I had visited. My tracks, as I hadleft them, had been solitary enough; but now I found they wereaccompanied by the footprints of a large Indian devil.

  “I didn’t really expect to get a shot at the beast, but I loaded bothbarrels with ball-cartridges. As I went on, however, it began to strikeme as strange that the brute should happen to be going so far in mydirection. Step for step his footprints clung to mine. When I reachedthe place where I had branched off in search of the partridges, I foundthat the panther had branched off with me. So polite a conformity of hisways to mine could have but one significance. I was being tracked!

  “The idea, when it first struck me, struck me with too much force to beagreeable. It was a very unusual proceeding on the part of an Indiand
evil, displaying a most imperfect conception of the fitness of things.That I should hunt him was proper and customary, but that he shouldthink of hunting me was presumptuous and most unpleasant. I resolvedthat he should be made to repent it before night.

  “The traps were unusually successful that trip, and at last I had tostop and make a _cache_ of my spoils. This unusual delay seemed tomislead my wily pursuer, who suddenly came out of a thicket while I washidden behind a tree-trunk. As he crept stealthily along on my tracks,not fifty yards away, I was disgusted at his sleuth-hound persistenceand crafty malignity. I raised my gun to my shoulder, and in anothermoment would have rid myself of his undesired attentions, but the animalmust have caught a gleam from the shining barrels, for he turned like aflash, and buried himself in the nearest thicket.

  “It was evident that he did not wish the matter forced to an immediateissue. As a consequence, I decided that it ought to be settled at once.I ran toward the thicket; but at the same time the panther stole out onthe other side, and disappeared in the woods.

  “Upon this I concluded that he had become scared, and given up hisunhallowed purpose. For some hours I dismissed him from my mind, andtended my traps without further apprehension. But about the middle ofthe afternoon, or a little later, when I had reached the farthest pointon my circuit, I once more became impressed with a sense that I wasbeing followed. The impression grew so strong that it weighed upon me,and I determined to bring it to a test. Taking some luncheon from mypocket, I sat down behind a tree to nibble and wait. I suppose I musthave sat there ten minutes, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, so that Iwas about to give it up, and continue my tramp, when—along came thepanther! My gun was levelled instantly, but at that same instant thebrute had disappeared. His eyes were sharper than mine. ‘Ah!’ said I tomyself, ‘I shall have to keep a big fire going to-night, or this fellowwill pay me a call when I am snoring!’”

  “Oh, surely not!” murmured Queerman pensively. The rest of us laughed;but Stranion only waved his pipe with a gesture that commanded silence,and went on:—

  “About sundown I met with an unlucky accident, which dampened both myspirits and my powder. In crossing a swift brook, at a place where theice was hardly thick enough to hold up its covering of snow, I brokethrough and was soaked. After fishing myself out with some difficulty, Ifound my gun was full of water which had frozen as it entered. Here wasa pretty fix! The weapon was for the present utterly useless. I fearedthat most of my cartridges were in like condition. The prospect for thenight, when the Indian devil should arrive upon the scene, was not acheerful one. I pushed on miserably for another mile or so, and thenprepared to camp.

  “First of all, I built such a fire as I thought would impress upon theIndian devil a due sense of my importance and my mysterious powers. At asafe distance from the fire I spread out my cartridges to dry, in thefervent hope that the water had not penetrated far enough to render themuseless. My gun I put where it would thaw as quickly as possible.

  “Then I cut enough firewood to blaze all night. With my snow-shoes I duga deep hollow at one side of the fire. The fire soon melted the snowbeneath it, and brought it down to the level whereon I was to place mycouch. I may say that the ground I had selected was a gentle slope, andthe fire was below my bed, so that the melting snow could run offfreely. Over my head I fixed a good, firm ‘lean-to’ of spruce saplings,thickly thatched with boughs. Thus I secured myself in such a way thatthe Indian devil could come at me only from the side on which the firewas burning. Such approach, I congratulated myself, would be little tohis Catship’s taste.

  “By the time my shelter was completed, it was full night in the woods.My fire made a ruddy circle about the camp, and presently I discernedthe panther gliding in and out among the tree-trunks on the outer edgesof the circle. He stared at me with his round green eyes, and I returnedthe gaze with cold indifference. I was busy putting my gun in order. Iwould not encourage him, lest he might grow too familiar before I wasready for his reception.

  “Between my gleaming walls of snow I had worked up a temperature thatwas fairly tropical. Away up overhead, among the pine-tops, a few largestars glimmered lonesomely. How far away seemed the world of my friendson whom these same stars were looking down! I wondered how those at homewould feel if they could see me there by my solitary camp-fire, watchedrelentlessly by that prowling and vindictive beast.

  “Presently, finding that I made no attack upon him, the brute slippednoiselessly up to within a dozen paces of the fire. There he croucheddown in the snow and glared upon me. I hurled a flaming brand at him,and he sprang backward, snarling, into the gloom. But the brandspluttered in the snow and went out, whereupon the brute returned to hispost. Then I threw another at him; but he regarded it this time withcontempt, merely drawing aside to give it room. When it had gone blackout, he approached, pawed it over, and sniffed in supremest contempt.Then he came much nearer, so that I thought he was about to spring uponme. I moved discreetly to the other side of the fire.

  “By this time the gun was ready for action, but not so the cartridges.They were lying farther from the fire and dangerously near my unwelcomevisitor. I perceived that I must make a diversion at once.

  “Selecting a resinous stick into which the fire had eaten deeply, sothat it held a mass of glowing coals, I launched it suddenly with suchcareful aim that it struck right between the brute’s fore-legs. As itscorched there, he caught and bit at it angrily, dropped it with ascreaming snarl, and shrank farther away. When he crouched down, bitingthe snow, I followed up my advantage by rushing upon him with a blazingroll of birch-bark. He did not await my onset, but bounded off among thetrees, where I could hear him grumbling in the darkness over hissmarting mouth. I left the bark blazing in the snow while I went back tosee to my precious cartridges.

  “Before long the panther reappeared at the limits of the lighted circle,but seemed not quite so confident as before. Nevertheless, it was clearthat he had set his heart on making a meal of me, and was not to bebluffed out of his design by a few firebrands.

  “I discovered that all my ball-cartridges were spoiled; but there were afew loaded with shot which the water had not penetrated. From these Iwithdrew the shot, and substituted ball and slugs. Then, slipping aball-cartridge into one barrel, slugs into the other, and three or fourextra cartridges into a handy pocket, I waited for my opponent torecover his confidence. As he seemed content to wait a while, I setabout broiling my partridges, for I was becoming clamorously hungry.

  “So also was the panther, as it seemed. When the odor of thosepartridges stole seductively to his nostrils, he once more approached myfire; and this time with an air of stern determination quite differentfrom his former easy insolence.

  “The crisis had come. I seized my gun, and knelt down behind the fire. Iarranged a burning log in such a manner that I could grasp and wield itwith both hands in an emergency. Just as the animal drew himselftogether for a spring, I fired one barrel,—that containing the ball,—andshattered his lower jaw. Mad with pain and fury, he sprang. The contentsof my second barrel, a heavy charge of slugs, met him full in thebreast, and he fell in a heap at my feet.

  “Mad with Pain and Fury, He sprang.”—Page 249.]

  “As he lay there, struggling and snarling and tearing up the snow, Islipped in another cartridge; and the next moment a bullet in his brainput an end to his miseries.

  “After this performance, I ate my partridges with a very grateful heart,and slept the sleep of the just and the victorious. The skin of thataudacious Indian devil lies now in my study, where Sam is continuallydesecrating it with his irreverent shoes.”

  “Good story, Stranion,” said Magnus with grave approval. “The only thinghard to believe is that you should make two such good shots.”

  “Well, you see I had to,” responded Stranion. “And now let Magnus giveus a hot story to satisfy Queerman.”

  “I don’t think I know another tropical yarn,” said Magnus.

  “I’ll give you one,” said Sam
, “and a bear story it is too. It’s about ascrape I got into when I was down in Florida three years ago, lookingafter Uncle Bill’s oranges. I’ll call it—

  ‘AN ADVENTURE IN THE FLORIDA HUMMOCKS.’

  “I was boarding at a country house not far from the banks of theCaloosahatchee River, in a district full of game. Most of my time wasspent in wandering with gun and dog through the luxuriant woods thatclothed the hummocks, and along the edges of the waving savannas orinterval meadows. The dog which always accompanied me was a largemongrel, half setter and half Newfoundland, belonging to my landlord. Hewas plucky and intelligent, but untrained; and I used to take him ratheras a companion than as an assistant.

  “The soil in Florida is generally very sandy; but in the hummocks, or,as they are more usually called in Florida, ‘hammocks,’ the sand ismixed with clay, and carries a heavy growth of timber. The trees arechiefly dogwood, pine, magnolia, and the several species of oak whichgrow in the South. These ‘hammocks’ vary in extent from one or two to athousand or more acres, and in many places the trees are so interlacedwith rankly growing vines that one can penetrate the forest only by thenarrow cattle-paths leading to the water.

  “One afternoon I was threading a path which led through a particularlydense hummock to the bank of a wide, shallow stream, known as DogwoodCreek, a branch of the Caloosahatchee. I carried a lightdouble-barrelled fowling-piece, and was seeking no game more formidablethan wild turkeys. My cartridges were loaded with No. 2 shot, but I hadtaken the precaution to drop a couple of ball-cartridges in among therest.

  “Presently there was a heavy crashing amid the dense undergrowth on myright; and Bruce, the dog, who had dropped a few paces behind, drewquickly up to my side with an angry growl. The hair lifted along hisback and between his ears.

  “As the crashing rapidly came nearer,—startlingly near, in fact,—I madehaste to remove my light cartridges and replace them with ball. But,alas! to unload was one thing, to find one of those two ball-cartridgesin the crowded depths of my capacious pocket was quite another. Everycartridge I brought to light was marked, with exasperating plainness,No. 2.

  “In my eager haste the perspiration stood out all over my face. I knewwell enough what was coming. It was unquestionably a bear. A pantherwould move more quietly; and a stray steer would cause no such greatconcern to Bruce. Whatever may have been my emotions, surprise wascertainly not among them when, just as I had concluded that those twoball-cartridges must have been a dream, a huge bear, which seemed veryangry about something, burst mightily forth into the pathway only threeor four yards behind me.

  “It was not hard to decide what to do. On either hand was the thicket,to me practically impenetrable; and behind was the bear. Straight aheadI ran at the top of my speed. At the same time I managed to slip acouple of cartridges into my gun. They were just whatever ones came tomy hand; but devoutly I hoped against hope that they might prove, whentested, to be those which were loaded with ball.

  “For perhaps two or three hundred yards the running was distinctly in myfavor, but then the pace began to tell on me. At once I slackened speed,and my pursuer closed in upon me so swiftly that I concluded to try asnap shot.

  “Facing about with a sharp yell, I expected the bear to rise on his hindlegs and give me a fair chance for a shot. But I had miscalculated myown momentum. The bear, indeed, rose as I expected. But at the sameinstant I tripped on a root and fell headlong. The gun flew up in theair in a wonderful way, and disappeared in the undergrowth.

  “To recover it was, I knew, impossible. Almost before I touched theground I was on my feet again, and running faster than ever. But whatrefuge there was for me to run to I knew not, and how the affair wasgoing to end I dared not guess.

  “In the first burst of my renewed vigor, and while the bear wasrecovering from his natural surprise at my extraordinary manœuvre, I hadregained my lost ground. All at once, as my breath was about forsakingme, the path opened before my eyes upon a grassy savanna, beyond whichshone the waters of Dogwood Creek. At the water’s edge was drawn up anold flat boat, with a pole sticking out over the bow. This craft wasevidently used as a ferry to connect with a continuation of the path onthe other side of the creek.

  “I darted forward, thrust the punt off, and flung myself into it. Anenergetic push with the pole, and the little craft shot out into thestream. Bruce, meanwhile, ran up along the water’s edge, barkingfuriously, and the bear pursued him.

  “Calling the dog to come to me, I pushed the punt towards him. With afrightened whine, which I did not at the moment understand, he plungedinto the water and swam out bravely. The bear hesitated a second or two,and then dashed in after him, raising a tremendous splash.

  “When Bruce was within a couple of yards of the boat, I was enlightenedas to the cause of his reluctance to take the water. An ugly blacksnout, not unlike the butt of a water-logged timber, was thrust intoview close by; then another, a few feet below the desperately swimminganimal; then another, and yet another, till the sullen, whitish surfaceof the creek was dotted thickly with the heads of alligators. They hadevidently been attracted by the sound of Bruce’s barking; and I calledto mind some stories I had heard at the house as to the abundance andferocity of the alligators in Dogwood Creek.

  “A sturdy shove on the pole, and I was at Bruce’s side. Reaching over, Iseized him by the scruff of the neck, and jerked him into the boat, justas a tremendous swirl in the water behind him showed where an alligatorhad made a rush for his legs.

  “The next instant the snout of the disappointed animal shot up besidethe gunwale, to receive a fierce jab from my pole, which made it keepits distance.

  “By this time the bear was dangerously near at hand. He was approachingwith great wallowing plunges, the water not being deep enough to compelhim to swim. I began to pole with all my might, thinking that even yet Iwas far from being out of the difficulty. With a few thrusts I put asafe distance between myself and my pursuer, but the creek was not wideenough to enable me to gain any very great head start in this way. In amost discontented frame of mind I had almost reached the landing, whensuddenly it occurred to me that really there was no necessity for me toland at once. I could pole up and down the creek, and dodge the bearuntil he should get tired and give up the chase. With this purpose Ithrust out again boldly into mid-stream.

  “The bear was now almost half-way across, but those black snouts wereclosing about him ominously. Indeed, the animal must have been blindedwith rage, or he would never have ventured into the deadly stream. In amoment, however, it seemed to dawn upon him that he had got himself intotrouble. He stopped with an uneasy sort of whine. Then he turned, andmade for the shore as fast as he could.

  “But it was too late for him to escape in that way. His path was blockedby several of the great reptiles, whose appetites were now thoroughlyaroused. I thought to myself, ‘If that bear is game, there’s going to bea lively time around here just now.’

  “And he _was_ game. True, seeing that the odds were so overwhelminglyagainst him, he had at first tried to avoid the combat. But now that hewas fairly in for it, he acquitted himself in a way that soon won mysympathetic admiration, and made me forget that but a moment before hehad been thirsting for my own blood.

  “With a huge grunt of indignant defiance, the bear hurled himself uponthe nearest alligator. On the massive armor of the reptile’s back evenhis powerful claws made slight impression; but with one paw he reachedto the soft under-side of the throat, and the water was suddenlycrimsoned, as the alligator, lashing the surface with his tail, made offand took refuge in a bed of reeds.

  “At the same instant, however, the jaws of another assailant closed uponthe animal’s flank. With a roar he rose straight up in the water,shaking himself so mightily that his adversary’s hold was broken. Thenhe threw his whole bulk on another which was advancing against him infront. The alligator was borne under and disappeared, probably forever_hors de combat_, and the bear gained several yards toward safety. Thenothers c
rowded in upon him, and his progress was stopped.

  “Up to this time my sympathies had naturally been with the alligators,to whom I owed my release from an embarrassing situation. Now, however,I felt myself going over to the side of the bear. I hated to see thesplendid, though to me very objectionable, brute thus at the mercy of ahorde of ravening reptiles.

  “Again shaking off his assailants, the bear seemed merely bent onselling his life as dearly as possible. Rising on his hindquarters, hefaced toward the centre of the stream, where his foes were mostnumerous. What tremendous buffeting blows he dealt, and how the strongknife-edged hooks of his claws searched out the unarmored spots on hisadversaries! In my excitement I pushed perilously near, and if I had hadmy lost gun I should certainly have taken a hand in the contest myself.I would have given a good deal at that moment to be able to help thebear.

  “But the odds were too great for any strength or pluck to long contendagainst. Before many minutes the bear was dragged under, and there wasnothing to be seen but a heaving, lashing, foaming mass of alligators.On the outskirts of the _mêlée_ swam a few hungry reptiles, who couldnot get in to the division of the spoils. These presently turned theirattention to the boat, purposing to console themselves with Bruce andme.

  “Awaking to the peril of the situation, I began poling hurriedly towardthe landing-place whence I had first started. But almost instantly I wassurrounded with alligators. Excited and enraged from their battle withthe bear, they were much more formidable than at ordinary times. I hadgreat reason to be thankful for the skill in poling which I had acquiredin the birch-bark canoes of our Northern rivers. Dodging some of myassailants, I beat off others with the pole, thrusting fiercely at theirwicked little eyes, which is the surest way to daunt them.

  “All at once there was a wild yelp from Bruce, and the punt reeledsharply. The gunwale went under water, and I was all but pitched outhead-first into the swarm of alligators. My heart was in my mouth as,with a swift and violent motion of the pole, I recovered my balance, andsteadied the boat. But with all my terror I had room for a pang of griefas I saw that poor Bruce had been dragged overboard.

  “The capture of the dog, however, was probably my salvation. Thealligators which were in front of the boat darted into the scramblewhich was taking place over the new victim, and I saw a clear spacebetween me and the safety of the shore. Desperately I surged on thepole, and the light craft shot in among the sedges. As the prow liftedonto solid ground, several of the long snouts rose over the stern,snapping greedily; but I had bounded forward like lightning, and wasbeyond their reach in a second. I paused not till I was clear of thesavanna and among the timber.

  “Throwing myself down on the reeking mould of the path, I lay there tillI had recovered my breath, and a measure of my equanimity. Then, afterfinding my gun in the depths of a mimosa thicket, I wended my wayhomeward, much depressed over the fate of Bruce.”

  “Talking of dogs,” said Queerman, “_I’ll_ tell you a story with a dog init. And it’s got other things in it too. A college story, by way of achange. Come to think of it, though we are all college men, there hasbeen very little in our stories to indicate the fact.”

  “By all means, Kelly Queerman,” said Sam, “let’s have the college storyat once!”

  “Well, to give it a proper scholastic flavor, I will entitle it—

  “Desperately I surged on the Pole.”—Page 258.]

  ‘THE JUNIOR LATIN SCHOLARSHIP.’

  “The sunshine of mid-May streamed alluringly into the great stoneportico of the old college of X——. The wide-winged gray edifice stood ona high terrace just under the crest of the hill, its ample windowslooking down over the topmost boughs of ash and elm and maple over theroofs and spires of the little university town of X——, and out to thebroad blue curve of the placid river. On the steps, lounged a group ofstudents, members of the Senior and Junior years. Several of theloiterers stood close to the open, arched door, and from time to timeglanced expectantly into the hall. A large black dog, a cross betweenSpitz and Newfoundland, lay in the centre of the hall, assiduouslylicking at a small but angry wound on his leg.

  “At the farther end of the hall now appeared one of the professors. Hestepped in front of the notice-board, and pinned a slip of white paperto the green baize-covered surface. In a moment the portico was cleared;and the men crowded in to read the announcement. They did not rushnoisily, as Freshmen, or even Sophomores, might have done; but theireagerness was tempered with dignity. The Seniors, in particular, werecareful to be properly deliberate; for announcements were expected byboth classes, and this might prove to be merely a Junior list!

  “It _was_ a Junior list. Leaning on each other’s shoulders, the Juniorsclustered around the board, while the Seniors lingered on the outskirts,and inquired with polite interest about the results. They were mindfulthat these Juniors would very soon be Seniors, and were therefore to betreated with a good deal of consideration. Then they dropped away intwos and threes, while the Juniors remained to take down the marks.

  “The marks which excited so much interest were those of the thirdterminal examination in Latin. A Latin scholarship, of the value of onehundred dollars, was dependent on the results of three terminals,compulsory for all the Latin students of the Junior class, and on aspecial examination to be held at the very end of the term. Thisexamination was open only to those declaring themselves competitors forthe scholarship. It was generally expected throughout the college thatthe winner would be Bert Knollys, who, without effort, had gained aslight lead in the first two terminals, and whose ability in classicswas unquestioned.

  “At the top of the present announcement stood Knollys’s name withpercentage of eighty-six. The second name on the list was that of J. S.Wright, with eighty-three to his credit.

  “‘Wright’s pulling up! Five more points will put him ahead!’ was theremark of one man who had been figuring on his pad.

  “Wright, a sharp-featured, sandy-haired fellow in the centre of thegroup, nodded his approval of this calculation. At the same moment, aslim youth of barely middle height, with laughing gray eyes andcrisply-waving hair, ran up and peered eagerly through the throng of hiscomrades. Having deciphered his standing, he was turning away asabruptly as he had come, when some one said,—

  “‘You’d better look out, Knollys! Wright is after you with a sharpstick!’

  “‘I don’t doubt Jack can beat me if he tries!’ responded Knollys.

  “‘Hold on a minute, Bert; I want to talk to you a bit!’ exclaimed a tallJunior by the name of Will Allison, extricating himself quickly from thecrowd.

  “‘Next hour, old man!’ cried Knollys, darting away. ‘I’ve got to catchDawson in the laboratory, right off, and can’t wait a second!’

  “Allison, who was Knollys’s most intimate friend, crossed the hall, andjoined a Senior who was lounging in a window overlooking the terrace.

  “‘It’s my firm belief, Jones,’ said he discontentedly, ‘that that cad,Jack Wright, is going to play Bert false!’

  “‘How so, pray?’ inquired the Senior, in a tone of very moderateinterest.

  “‘Why, by going into the special exam., of course!’ replied Allison.

  “‘And why _shouldn’t_ he, as well as Knollys, go into the specialexamination?’ asked Jones.

  “‘Oh, I thought every one knew about that!’ exclaimed Allison somewhatimpatiently. ‘But it’s this way, since you inquire. Wright took thescholarship for our class last year—the Second Year Greek, you know.Well, Knollys was way ahead on the average of the terminals, and wouldhave had a walk-over. As every man in the class knows, he can wipe outall the rest of us in classics without half trying. But Wright went tohim, and made a poor mouth about being so hard up that he’d have toleave college if he didn’t get the scholarship. Bert has none too muchcash himself; but in his generous way he agreed not to go in for thespecial exam. So Wright, of course, got the scholarship. In return hepromised Knollys that he would not go in for
the Junior Latin thefollowing year. This suited Bert very well, as he wanted to put his hardwork on his readings for the science medal. Under these circumstances,you see, he has been taking it rather easy in the Latin; and I havereason to believe that Wright has been working extra hard at it. Mark mywords, he’ll go in at the last moment and catch Bert napping. Butthere’s not another man in college that I would suspect of such acaddish trick.’

  “‘Well, for my part,” said the Senior, ‘I don’t greatly care which getsit. I grant you that Wright’s a cad; but I’m disappointed in Knollys!’

  “‘Indeed! Poor Knollys!’ murmured Allison.

  “‘Yes,’ continued the Senior loftily, ignoring the sarcasm; ‘in myopinion Knollys funks.’

  “‘It seems to me, Jones,’ retorted Allison, ‘you forget certainincidents that took place when Bert Knollys was a Freshman, and you aSophomore!”

  “‘Oh,’ said the Senior, calmly looking over Allison’s head, ‘the wormwill turn! But what I’m thinking about is his refusal to play foot-balllast fall. He’s quick, and sharp, and tough; just the man the teamwanted for quarter-back, if only he had the nerve! Said he was too busyto train—indeed!’ and Jones sniffed contemptuously as he turned away tojoin some members of his own class, leaving Allison in a fume ofindignation.

  “At this moment Jack Wright, chancing to stroll past the big black dog,gave the animal a careless kick. The dog sprang at his assailant with aferocious snarl. Much startled, Wright evaded the attack by dodging intoa knot of his classmates; and the dog lay down again, growling angrily.

  “‘Bran doesn’t seem to be quite himself!’ remarked a Senior, eying himnarrowly.

  “‘He’d be an ugly customer to handle if he started to run amuck,’commented another Senior, chuckling at Wright’s discomfiture. ‘I wonderwhere he got that bite on his leg!’

  “This was something which nobody knew; and the incident was promptlyforgotten by all but Jack Wright, who thenceforth gave the animal a wideberth.

  “As soon as Knollys came out of the laboratory, Will Allison told himhis suspicions in regard to Wright, and urged him to put his energiesupon the Latin. But Knollys was always slow to believe that a comradecould be guilty of treachery.

  “‘I don’t think Wright is really such a bad lot, old man,’ said he;‘only his manner is unfortunate, and he isn’t popular.’

  “Just three days later appeared on the notice-board the announcementthat B. Knollys and J. S. Wright were competitors for the Junior Latinscholarship! The examination was to take place on the following morning.Bert Knollys was hurt and indignant; his friends were furious; andWright looked craftily triumphant over the prospect of so neatly gettingahead of a rival.

  “Knollys was by no means prepared for such a contest as he knew Wrightwas capable of giving him; but his anger nerved him to the utmosteffort. Returning in hot haste to his home in the outskirts of the town,he shut himself into his little study. All through the afternoon hetoiled mightily over book and lexicon. About tea time he took a shortwalk, and then settled down for a night of solid “grind.” He was boundthat he would win if it was in him.

  “Toward two o’clock, however, eyes and brain alike grew dim, and themeanings began to mix themselves most vexatiously. He sprang up,snatched his cap, let himself out of the house noiselessly, and setforth to wake his wits by a brisk run.

  “For the sake of the freer air he took a path traversing the hilltoptoward the college. The path ran through the open pastures, and reachedat length a rocky ridge just back of the cottage of Doctor Adams, theprofessor of classics. Here Jack Wright was boarding. As Knollys swungpast along the ridge he glanced downward to the professor’s studywindow; and as he did so a light appeared therein. He haltedinstinctively; and the next moment his lip was curling with astonishedcontempt as he saw Jack Wright seat himself before the study table, andstealthily search the drawers. The top of the ridge was so near thewindow that Knollys, where he leaned against the fence, could see allthat went on, as if he had been in the room. At last, after goingthrough almost every drawer with frequent guilty, listening pauses,Wright found what he wanted, an examination paper! After making ahurried copy of it, he returned it to its place; and then, with his lampturned very low, he stole out of the room.

  “Bert Knollys’s first thought was to go at once to Doctor Adams, lay hiscomplaint, and have Wright’s room searched before he could have time todestroy the stolen copy. Then it occurred to him that this would leadinevitably to Wright’s expulsion, and not improbably to his ruin. Hetherefore dismissed the idea. He hastened back home; tried to study, butfound the effort vain; went to bed, and fell asleep without havingarrived at any solution of the problem. In the morning he was equallyundecided. Perhaps his best course would have been to go to theprofessor, declare a suspicion that the paper had been tampered with,and ask that a new paper be set. But he failed to think of this way outof the difficulty; and, at last, tired of worrying over it, he made uphis mind to do nothing. He went in to the examination, wrote anunusually good paper, and came out feeling that there was yet a chancefor him in spite of Wright’s previous knowledge of the questions. But onthe day following was posted the announcement that Wright was the winnerby a lead of three marks on the average for the four examinations.

  “The affair was a grievous disappointment to Bert Knollys, and meant theupsetting of all his plans for the summer. He had counted on thescholarship money to enable him to take a long vacation trip with WillAllison. This scheme he had now to abandon; and Allison could notrefrain from reproaching him for his misplaced confidence in JackWright. Furthermore, he was accused of petty jealousy by many studentsoutside of his own class; and his popularity, undermined by Wright’sskilful insinuations, rapidly dwindled away. Smarting under theinjustice, and seeing no satisfactory way to remove themisunderstanding, Knollys grew moody and depressed.

  “The days slipped by quickly, and Commencement was close at hand. Onewarm afternoon, a number of the students were in the baseball field,where a practice match was in progress. The college Nine was strenuouslypreparing for the great Commencement Day match. Knollys, Allison, Jones,and a few others, were lying under the fence on the farther side of thefield, while most of the spectators were grouped as close as possible tothe players. Jack Wright was at the bat.

  “Suddenly in the gate of the college barnyard, above the ball-field,appeared Bran, the dog. The hair lifted along his back-bone and on hisneck, and a light froth showed about his half-bared teeth. He was asinister and menacing figure as he stood there, a strange trouble in hiswild, red eyes. After glaring uneasily from side to side for severalminutes, he gave utterance to a yelping snarl, and darted down thehillside toward the field. The group under the fence observed him atonce.

  “‘What’s the matter with the dog?’ exclaimed Jones, in a tone ofapprehension; and ‘Look at Bran!’ shouted some one else. The pitcherstopped in the very act of delivering the ball, and every eye went inthe one direction. The dread truth was evident at once. On all sidesarose the appalling cry, ‘He’s mad! Mad dog! Mad dog!’ and players andspectators scattered in sickening panic. As it were in the twinkling ofan eye, the field was empty.

  “But no! It was not quite empty! Turning in wild terror, and starting torun as he turned, Jack Wright tripped, fell, and snapped his ankle. Hegot up, and saw himself alone in the wide, sunny field. The dog had justentered the gate, and was making straight for him with foaming, snappingjaws. He strove to flee, but the shattered ankle gave way beneath him;and, with a piercing cry of horror, he dropped in a heap, burying hisface in his hands.

  “Knollys, like all the rest, had sprung over the fence at the firstalarm; but at that despairing cry he sprang back again. There was nohesitation, no waiting to see what the others would do. Swift as a deerhe sped out across the shining and deadly expanse. As he ran, he stoopedto snatch up a bat which lay in his path. It was a question which wouldwin in the awful race; and the crowd of fugitives, checking theirflight, watched in spellbound silence.
/>
  “The dog arrived first, but only by a foot or two. As it sprang atWright’s prostrate body Knollys reached out with a fierce lunge, andcaught it between the jaws with the end of the bat. Biting madly at thewood, the animal rose on its hind legs, and in a flash Knollys had bothhands clenched in a grip of steel about its throat.

  “For a few seconds the struggle was a desperate one. The animal’sstrength was great, and Knollys had all he could do to hold him at arm’slength. Then Will Allison arrived, panting, and conscience-stricken forhis tardiness. He was followed by two or three others who had broken thespell of their panic. A couple of well-directed blows from the bat inAllison’s hands stunned the dog, and it was then speedily despatched.

  “Breathing somewhat quickly, but otherwise quite cool, Knollys lookeddown upon Jack Wright’s gastly face.

  “‘Glad I was in time, Wright!’ said he.

  “‘Bert,’ cried Wright, in a shaking voice, ‘_you_ won that scholarship!I just cribbed the whole paper!’

  “To thank his rescuer, he felt, was not within the power of words; butreparation was in part possible, and his one thought was to make it.

  “‘We won’t talk of that now,’ answered Knollys. ‘I know all about it,Jack! I saw the whole thing; and we just won’t say anything more aboutit, old fellow!’

  “But Wright had fainted from the pain and the shock, and did not hearthe forgiveness in Bert’s voice.

  “The next day a letter went from Wright’s sick-bed to the president ofthe college. Wright wanted to tell everything; but on Bert’s advice hemerely confessed that he had cribbed, without saying how, and resignedhis claim to the scholarship. At Commencement, therefore, it wasannounced by the president that the Latin scholarship had been won by B.Knollys. Many conflicting rumors, of course, went abroad among thestudents; but to no one except Will Allison was the whole truth told. Asfor Wright, a new point of view seemed all at once to have opened beforehis eyes. The loftier standard which he now learned to set himself, headhered to throughout the rest of his course, and then carried forthwith him into what have proved very creditable and successful relationswith the world.”

  “Queerman has grown didactic,” said I. “That is surely not the tone fora canoe trip. Ranolf, it’s your turn to take the platform. Let us havesomething that is simple, unmedicated adventure!”

  “I’ll tell you a bicycle story,” said Ranolf; “an unromantic tale of aromantic land. It is all about a bull and a bicycle in the land ofEvangeline.”

  A BULL AND A BICYCLE.

  “It was in the autumn of 1889, while the old, high wheels were still inuse, that I rode through the Evangeline land with a fellow-wheelman fromHalifax. We rolled lazily along a well-kept road, and sang the praisesof Nova Scotia’s scenery and air.

  “Ahead of us, across a wide, flashing water, the storied expanse ofMinas, towered the blue-black bastion of Cape Blomidon, capped withrolling vapors. To our left, and behind us, rose fair, rounded hills,some thickly wooded, others with orchards and meadows on their slopes;while to our right lay far unrolled those rich diked lands which thevanished Acadian farmers of old won back from the sea.

  “Though another race now held these lovely regions, we felt that thelandscape, through whatever vicissitudes, must lie changelessly underthe spell of one enchantment,—the touch of the well-loved poet. We feltthat something more than mere beauty of scene, however wonderful, wasneeded to explain the exalted mood which had taken possession of twohungry wheelmen like ourselves; and we acknowledged that additionalsomething in the romance of history and song.

  “Presently we came to a stretch of road which had been treated to agenerous top-dressing of loose sand. Such ignorance of the principles ofgood road-making soon brought us down both from our lofty mood and fromour laboring wheels. We trudged toilsomely for nearly half a mile,saying unkind things now of the Nova Scotian road-makers, and quiteforgetting the melodious sorrows of the Acadian exiles.

  “Then we came to the village of Avonport, and were much solaced by thesight of the village inn.

  “In the porch of the unpretentious hostelry we found a fellow ’cycler ina sorely battered condition. Several strips of court-plaster, black andpink, distributed artistically about his forehead, nose, and chin, gavea mightily grotesque appearance to his otherwise melancholy countenance.One of his stockings was rolled down about his ankle, and he was busyapplying arnica to a badly bruised shin.

  “Against the bench on which he was sitting leaned a bicycle which lookedas if it had been in collision with an earthquake.

  “The poor fellow’s woe-begone countenance brightened up as we entered,and we made ourselves acquainted. He was a solitary tourist fromEastport, Me., and a principal in the important case of Bull _versus_Bicycle, which had just been decided very much in favor of Bull. Wedined together, and as our appetites diminished our curiosity increased.

  “Presently Caldwell, as the woe-begone ’cyclist called himself, detailedto us his misadventure, as follows;—

  “‘It wasn’t more than an hour before you fellows came that I got heremyself. I was in a nice mess, I can tell you. But plenty of cold waterand Mrs. Brigg’s arnica and court-plaster have pulled me together a lot.I only hope we can do as much after dinner for that poor old wheel ofmine.

  “‘This morning I had a fine trip pretty nearly all the way from Windsor.Splendid weather, wasn’t it; and a good hard road most of the way, eh?You remember that long, smooth hill about two miles back from here, andthe road that crosses it at the foot, nearly at right angles? Well, as Icame coasting down that hill, happy as a clam, my feet over the handles,I almost ran into a party of men, with ropes and a gun, moving alongthat cross-road.

  “‘I stopped for a little talk with them, and asked what they were up to.It appeared that a very dangerous bull had got loose from a farm up theriver, and had taken to the road. They were afraid it would goresomebody before they could recapture it. I asked them if they knew whichway it had gone; and they told me the “critter” was sure to make rightfor the dike lands, where it used to pasture in its earlier and moreamiable days.

  “‘That cross-road was the way to the dikes, and they pursued itconfidently. I took it into my head that it would be a lark to go alongwith them, and see the capture of the obstreperous animal; but the men,who were intelligent fellows and knew what they were talking about, toldme I should find the road too heavy and rough for my wheel. Ratherreluctantly I bade them good-morning and continued my journey by thehighway.

  “‘Now, as a fact, that bull had no notion of going to the dikes. He hadturned off the cross-road, and sauntered along the highway, just wherehe could get most fun, and see the most of life. But I’ll venture to sayhe hadn’t counted on meeting a bicycle.

  “‘I hadn’t gone more than half a mile, or perhaps less, when a littledistance ahead of me I noticed some cattle feeding by the roadside. Ithought nothing of that, of course; but presently one of the cattle—atremendous animal, almost pure white—stepped into the middle of the roadand began to paw the mud. Certain anxious questionings arose within me.

  “‘Then the animal put his great head to the earth, and uttered a mightybellow. With much perturbation of spirit I concluded that the angry bullhad not betaken himself to the dikes after all.

  “‘I felt very bitter toward those men for this mistake, and for nothaving suffered me to go along with them on their futile errand. Theywanted the bull, and wouldn’t find him. I, on the other hand, had foundhim, and I didn’t want him at all.

  “‘I checked my course, pedalling very slowly, uncertain what to do. Thebull stood watching me. If I turned and made tracks he would catch me onthe hill or on the soft cross-road. If I took to the woods there waslittle to gain, for there were no fences behind which to take refuge;and if I should climb a tree I knew the beast would demolish my wheel.

  “‘Straight ahead, however, as far as I could see, the road was level andgood; and in the distance I saw farms and fences. I decided to keeprig
ht on.

  “‘The road along there is wide and hard, as you know, and bordered witha deep ditch. I put on good speed; and the bull, as he saw meapproaching, looked a little puzzled. He took the wheel and me, Ipresume, for some unheard of monster. I guessed his meditations, andconcluded he was getting frightened.

  “‘But there I was mistaken. He was only getting in a rage. He suddenlyconcluded that it was his mission to rid the world of monsters; and witha roar he charged down to meet me.

  “‘“Now,” thought I, “for a trick! and then a race, in which I’ll show apretty speedy pair of heels!” I rode straight at the bull, who must havehad strange misgivings, though he never flinched. At the last possiblemoment I swerved sharply aside, and swept past the baffled animal in afine triumphant curve. Before he could stop himself and turn I was awaydown the road at a pace that I knew would try his mettle.

  “‘But the brute had a most pernicious energy. He came thundering andpounding along my tracks at a rate that kept me quite busy. I stayedahead easily enough, but I did not do much more than that for fear ofgetting winded.

  “‘There’s where I made the mistake, I think. I ought to have done myutmost, in order to discourage and distance my pursuer. I didn’t allowfor contingencies ahead, but just pedalled along gayly and enjoyed thesituation. Of course I kept a sharp lookout, in order that I shouldn’ttake a header over a stone; but I felt myself master of the situation.

  “‘At last, and in an evil hour, I came to where they had been mendingthe road with all that abominable sand. Let us pass over my feelings atthis spot. They were indescribable. My wheel almost came to astandstill. Then I called up fresh energies, and bent forward andstrained to the task. I went ahead, but it was like wading through afeather-bed; and the bull began to draw nearer.

  “‘A little in front the fences began. The first was a high board fence,with a gate in it, and a hay-road leading by a rough bridge into thehighway. My whole effort now was to make that gate.

  “‘The perspiration was rolling down my face, half-blinding me. My mightypursuer was getting closer and closer; and I was feeling pretty wellpumped. It was as much as a bargain which would win the race. I darednot look behind, but my anxious ears kept me all too well informed.

  “‘I reached the bridge and darted across it. Immediately I heard mypursuer’s feet upon it. I had no time to dismount. I rode straight atthe gate, ran upon it, and shot over it head-first in a magnificentheader, landing in a heap of stones and brambles.

  “‘In a glow of triumph, which at first prevented me feeling my wounds, Ipicked myself up, and beheld the furious beast in the act of trying togore my unoffending bicycle.

  “‘At first he had stopped in consternation, naturally amazed at seeingthe monster divided into two parts. The portion which had shot over thegate he perceived to be very like a man; but the other part remained allthe more mysterious. Presently he plunged his horns tentatively into thebig wheel; whereupon my brave bicycle reared and struck him in the eyewith a handle, and set the little wheel crawling up his back.

  “‘At this the bull was astonished and alarmed—so much so that he backedoff a little way. Then, seeing that the bicycle lay motionless on theground, he charged upon it again, maltreating it shamefully, and tossingit up on his horns.

  “‘This was too much for me. I ran up, reached over the gate, and laidhold of my precious wheel. By strange good fortune I succeeded indetaching it from the brute’s horns and hauling it over the gate. Then Ipelted the animal with sticks and stones till he got disgusted and movedaway.

  “‘As soon as he was safely off the scene I opened the gate and limpedsorrowfully down to this place, dragging my wheel by my side. Do youthink we can do anything with it?’

  “‘The first thing necessary,’ said I, ‘is to have an examination, andmake a diagnosis of its injuries.’

  “This we forthwith proceeded to do, and found the matter pretty serious.After spending an hour in tinkering at the machine we had to give up thejob. Then we set forth on a visit to the village blacksmith who, afterbeing regaled with a full account of Caldwell’s misadventure, addressedhimself to his task with vast good-will.

  “He was a skilful man, and before nightfall the wheel was in bettertravelling shape than its unlucky owner. But Caldwell was good stuff,and of a merry heart; so that when, on the following day, he became ourtravelling companion, we found that his scars and his lugubriouscountenance only heightened the effect of his good-fellowship.”

  “I think,” said I, “that after a cheerful narrative like Ranolf’s youcan stand a somewhat bloody one from me.”

  “All right, O. M.,” answered Queerman; “pile on as much gore as youlike.”

  “Don’t expect too much,” said I. “It’s only another wolf story. The namethereof is—

  ‘THE DEN OF THE GRAY WOLF.’

  “Not long ago I was doing the Tobique with Joe Maxim, an old hunter whomI think none of you have met. We were dropping smoothly down with thecurrent, approaching the Narrows.

  “Maxim was a curious and interesting character. Of good old Colonialstock, and equipped in youth with an excellent education, he had foundhimself, in early manhood, at odds with society and the requirements ofcivilized life. Perhaps through some remote ancestor there had creptinto his veins a streak of Indian or other wandering blood. At any rate,the wilderness had drawn him with a spell that overcame all counterattractions. He drifted to the remotest backwoods, and there devotedhimself to hunting and trapping. Never entering the settlements exceptto purchase supplies or sell his furs, he had spent the best years ofhis life in an almost unbroken solitude. Yet the few sportsmen whopenetrated to his haunts and sought his skilful services found thatseclusion had failed to make him morose. He was kindly, and notuncompanionable; and though in appearance one of the roughest of hisadopted class, he preserved to a marked degree the speech and accent ofhis earlier days.

  “‘You were speaking just now,’ said he, ‘of the wolves coming back toNew Brunswick. Well, they’re here, off and on, most of the time, Ireckon. It was not far from here that I had a scrimmage with them abouttwenty years back.’

  “At this point a murmurous roaring began to make itself heard on thestill air; and before I could ask any more questions about the wolves,Maxim exclaimed,—

  “‘We can’t go through the “Narrows” to-night. Not light enough with thishead of water. Better camp right here.’

  “‘Agreed!’ said I; and we slid gently up along side of a projecting log.Presently we had the tent pitched on a bit of dry, soft sward thatsloped ever so little toward the waterside. Behind the tent was athicket of spruce that sheltered us from the night wind; and in frontlaughed softly the river, as it hurried along its shining trail beneaththe full moon, to bury itself in the chasms of the dark hill-range whichseparated it from its sovereign, the wide St. John.

  “After supper, when the camp-fire was blazing cheerfully, Maxim told meabout the wolves.

  “‘Well,’ said he in a reminiscent tone, ‘it was in those hills yonder,very near the Narrows, I struck the wolves. I knew there were a goodmany of them ’round that winter, as I’d come across lots of theirtracks. There was a bounty then of fifteen dollars on a wolf’ssnout,—that was twenty years ago,—and I was keeping my eyes pretty wellpeeled. My lookout was all in vain, however, till along one afternoon Icaught sight of one of the skulking vermin dodging behind some bushes,not far from here, but on the other side of the river. It was only asnap shot I got at the beast, but I wounded it; and you’d better believeI lost no time following up the trail. By the way he bled, I could seethat he was hard hit.

  “‘He led me away up, nigh the top of the mountain, then took a sharpturn to the river; and pretty soon I came out onto a little level place,a sort of high platform, in front of a big, bare slope of rock. In thefoot of that rock there was a hole, just about big enough for a man tocrawl into on his hands and knees, and into that hole led the trail ofmy wolf.

  “‘“Got hi
m, fast enough!” said I to myself; “but how to get athim—there’s the rub!” As I stood there considering, _another_ wolf slidby me, like a long, gray shadow, and sneaked into the den. Withoutputting the gun to my shoulder, I gave him a shot, which fetched him inthe hindquarters just as he disappeared. “That’s good for thirtydollars,” said I to myself, loading up again, and hoping some more wouldcome along.

  “‘They didn’t come; so pretty soon I gave them up, and went and examinedthe hole. I could see that it narrowed down rapidly, and I hardly knewwhat to do. I wanted that thirty dollars; but I didn’t want to crawlinto that little dark hole after it, with maybe a couple of yet livelywolves waiting at the other end to receive me.’

  “‘Why didn’t you leave them there and go back for them next day? By thattime, if they were really hard-hit, you’d have found them dead enough!’was my comment.

  “‘There wouldn’t have been much of them left for me by the morrow,’ saidMaxim. ‘I knew well enough the other wolves would scent the blood andcome along, and help themselves to snouts and all in the night. So byand by I made up my mind to crawl in and risk it. Standing my gun upagainst the rock, and taking my knife in my right hand, I started in!’

  “‘Ugh!’ said I, ‘it makes me shiver to think of it!’

  “‘It _was_ nasty,’ assented Maxim; ‘but then, I counted on one of thevermin, at least, being dead; and I didn’t think there’d be much fightleft in the other. But that hole narrowed down mighty sudden, and thefirst thing I knew, I had to crawl flat on my stomach to get along atall; and presently I found it tight squeezing even that way. Of course Iheld my right hand, with the knife in it, well to the front, ready toprotect my head and face.

  “‘Just as the hole got so tight for me that I was about concluding togive up the job, I heard a terrific snarl right in my ear, and a wolfjumped onto me. His fangs got me right in the jaw,—you can see the scarshere now,—and I thought I was about fixed. But I slashed out desperatelywith my big knife, and caught my assailant somewhere with a deadlythrust. He yelped, and sprang out of the way.

  “‘I felt the blood streaming over my face, and knew I was badly bitten.I’d had enough of that enterprise; but when I tried to back out the wayI had come, I found I couldn’t work it. When it dawned upon me that Iwas stuck in that trap, a cold sweat broke out all over me. I _was_stuck, and no mistake. Then I wriggled a little farther in; and, atthis, the wolf was onto me again. This time my face escaped, and hisfangs went into my shoulder; but the next moment my knife-edge found histhroat, and down he came in a heap. Then I lay still a bit, to get mybreath and consider the situation. The one thing clear was, that I hadgot myself into a tight place, and I began to wriggle for all I wasworth in order to get out of it.

  “‘After twisting and tugging and straining for perhaps ten solidminutes, I was forced to acknowledge to myself that I had not gained oneinch. Then I made up my mind that my only hope lay in squeezing myselfall the way in. Once inside the cave, I thought, it would becomparatively easy work to wriggle out head-first. In this direction Igained a few inches,—perhaps a foot, or more; and by this time I felt soexhausted that I wanted to lie still and take a sleep, which, I knew, ofcourse, would be madness.

  “‘Intending to rest but a moment, I must, nevertheless, have fallen intoa doze. How long I lay thus, I don’t know; but it must have been gettingwell along past sundown when I was awakened by a sound that brought myheart into my throat and made every hair stand on end. It was the howlof a wolf outside!’

  “I interrupted the story at this point with an involuntary ‘Ah—h—h!’

  “‘Yes,’ said Maxim, acknowledging my sympathy, ‘I could _face_ anynumber of the vermin, and not lose hold of myself; but the idea of themcoming along _behind_, and eating me gradually, feet first, was toomuch. I think that for a minute or two I must have been clean crazy. Atany rate, I found strength enough, in that minute or two, to force myway right on, and into the cave, without knowing how I did it. And Ifound afterwards that the struggle had peeled off, not only most of myclothes, but lots of the flesh on my hips and shoulders as well.

  “‘As soon as I realized that I was inside the den, I felt round for thetwo dead wolves, and stuffed them head-first into the hole I had justcome through. They filled it pretty snugly; and then I seated myself ontheir hind legs to hold them solid, and hunted for a match.

  “‘In the rags of my clothes I had a pocket left, and fortunately therewere some matches in it. Lighting one, I perceived in the sudden flarethat I was in a little cave, about four feet high, and maybe seven oreight feet square. The floor of it was dry sand, and there were boneslying about.

  “‘Presently, in the tunnel behind me, sounded a snarl that seemed tocome right against my backbone, and I jumped about a foot. Then Igrabbed hold of the dead wolves, and hung onto them for all I was worth,for I could feel something dragging at one of them. You see, myexperience in the hole had shaken my nerves pretty badly. If I’d beenjust myself, I should have cleared the way, and let my assailants in,killing them one by one, with my knife, as they crawled through. As itwas, however, I gave a yell that scared the brute in the tunnel, so thathe backed out in a hurry, and then I heard two or three of them howlingoutside. But it encouraged me a good deal to see what an effect my voiceproduced.

  “‘Pretty soon one of the wolves crept back, sniffing, sniffing, into thehole; and as soon as he discovered that it was only dead wolves thatwere stopping the way, he began to gnaw. It was a sickening sound hemade, gnawing that way. After standing it as long as I could, I put myface down between the bodies, and gave another yell. How it echoed inthat little place! and how quick that wolf backed out again! For all themisery and anxiety I was in, I couldn’t help laughing to myself there inthe dark, wondering what the brute would think it was.

  “‘I tried this game on half a dozen times very successfully; but afterthat the wolves ceased to mind it. One would come and gnaw for a while,then another would give him a nip in the rear, squeeze past, and takehis place. I soon began to fear my unique barricade would be all eatenaway before morning, and I cast about in my mind for some other means ofdiverting the hungry animals’ attention.

  “‘At length a brilliant idea struck me. I lit a match, and thrust itinto the hole right under the cannibals’ noses. That gave them a bigsurprise, I can tell you. They backed out in a great hurry, and sniffedabout and howled a good deal before they ventured in again. As long asthose matches held out, I had no trouble; and the wolves just kepthowling outside the hole, not daring to come in after their victualswhile there were such mysterious goings-on within the cave.

  “‘By and by, however, like all good things, the matches came to an end.Then presently in came the wolves, and soon they were gnawing awayharder than ever. I was thinking that before long I would have to fightit out with the crowd after all, and then it occurred to me that I mightas well begin right off. Lying flat down, I thrust my right hand, withthe knife in it, blade up, as far as I could reach out into the hole,but underneath the dead wolves. Then I gave two or three tremendoussweeping slashes.

  “‘One of the brutes must have caught it pretty stiff. He yelped andsnarled hideously, and got outside for all he was worth. Then for aminute or two the whole lot howled and yelped in chorus. They must havebeen discussing the various mysteries of the cave, and concluded thatthese were too dangerous to be explored any further; for presently allwas silent, and by an occasional yelp in the distance, I knew that theanimals had betaken themselves elsewhere. I know it was a crazy thing todo; but just as soon as I’d made up my mind the wolves were gone, Idropped to sleep right across the entrance of the den.

  “‘When I awoke I was so still and my wounds pained so, that I couldhardly move. But I knew I had to brace up, and get out of that beforeanother night should come. I pulled away the bodies, and saw it wasbroad daylight. I took my knife, and chipped away for a long while atthe walls and roof of the tunnel, finding the rock very soft andcrumbly. Then I crawled out, with pain and diffic
ulty, and pointedstraight for the settlements, where I arrived more dead than alive. ButI managed to lug along with me what there was left of those wolf-snouts,together with the tails; and I got the thirty dollars after all.’

  “As Maxim finished his story, the roar of the Narrows, long unheeded,fell again upon my ear with a distinctness almost startling, and a looncried mockingly from a hidden lakelet. Maxim rose, and replenished thesinking fire. Then we rolled ourselves into our blankets, as I proposethat we all do now.”

  “Agreed!” cried several voices at once; and very soon the camp on theToledi was sunk in slumber.