3IO CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



and curiously enough, two of those he saw, ana shot at, 

 were at the carcass of my first goat. 



After we left the mountains our three guides returned 

 to the scene of our late adventures, and went to trapping. 

 Smith worked Avalanche Creek, Mack Norboe took his 

 old cabin on Bull River, and John Norboe went to Lake 

 Monro. I think Charlie Smith had the most fun. 



Within a hundred feet of the spot where he, Phillips 

 and I sat on the bank of the creek and ate our luncheon 

 on the day we first went bear hunting down to Roth 

 Mountain, he caught a big and savage Wolverine, once 

 more scoring against his ancient enemy. To make sure 

 that a captured animal should not chew himself out of 

 his trap, he rigged his favorite engine of destruction — a 

 spring-pole, — and to the end of this attached the chain 

 of his trap. The Wolverine sprung the trap, the trap 

 sprung the pole, and Gulo had nothing to do but to wait 

 for Charlie. 



When Charlie came, he found the Wolverine held by 

 two toes only, and therefore practically unhurt. This was 

 great fortune, and at once the trapper resolved to earn 

 an additional increment by sending the animal alive to 

 the New York Zoological Society. He had no cage, nor 

 was it possible to make one on the spot. Single-handed 

 and alone, he tied the jaws of that raging musteline 

 demon, tied its legs and feet, also, made the Mountain 

 Devil into a package, took it on his back, and carried it 

 through a foot of snow, down the creek six miles, to his 

 cabin. 



There he made for the beast a rough cage of poles. 



