216 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



some of the smaller wolves have lost fur over it. Then, by the 

 blood-marks, he can tell they have got under cover of the shrub 

 growth to the right. 



The Indian says none of the words which the white man might 

 say; but that is nothing to his credit; for just now no words are 

 adequate. But he takes prompt resolution. After the fashion 

 of the old Mosaic law, which somehow is written on the very face 

 of the wilderness as one of its necessities, he decides that only 

 life for life will compensate such loss. The danger of hunting the 

 big, brown wolf — he knows too well to attempt it without help. 

 He will bait his small traps with poison ; take out his big, steel 

 wolf traps to-morrow ; then with a band of young braves follow 

 the wolf-pack's trail during this lull in the hunting season. 



But the animal world knows that old trick of drawing a herring 

 scent across the trail of wise intentions ; and of all the animal 

 world, none knows it better than the brown Northern wolf. He 

 carries himself with less of a hang-dog air than his brother wolves, 

 with the same pricking forward of sharp, erect ears, the same 

 crouching trot, the same sneaking, watchful green eyes ; but his 

 tail, which is bushy enough to brush out every trace of his tracks, 

 has not the skulking droop of the gray wolf's ; and in size he is a 

 giant among wolves. 



The trapper shoulders his musket again, and keeping to the 

 open, where he can travel fast on the long snow-shoes, sets out 

 for the next trap. The man-shadow grows longer. It is late in 

 the afternoon. Then all the shadows merge into the purple gloom 

 of early evening ; but the Indian travels on ; for the circuit of traps 

 leads back to his lodge. 



The wolf thief may not be far off ; so the man takes his musket 

 from the case. He may chance a shot at the enemy. Where 

 there are woods, wolves run under cover, keeping behind a fringe 

 of brush to windward. The wind carries scent of danger from the 

 open, and the brush forms an ambuscade. Man tracks, where 



