138 THE STORY OF THE TRAPPER 



abreast of the wolf and utterly heedless of the increas 

 ing danger, as each step puts greater distance between 

 him and his lodge. He will pass the wolf, come out in 

 front and shoot. 



But when he comes to the edge of the woods to get 

 his aim, there is no wolf, and the dog is barking furi 

 ously at his own moonlit shadow. The wolf, after the 

 fashion of his kind, has apparently disappeared into 

 the ground, just as he always seems to rise from the 

 earth. The trapper thinks of the &quot; loup-garou,&quot; but 

 no wolf-demon of native legend devoured the very real 

 substance of that fox. 



The dog stops barking, gives a whine and skulks 

 to his master s feet, while the trapper becomes sud 

 denly aware of low-crouching forms gliding through 

 the underbrush. Eyes look out of the dark in the flash 

 of green lights from a prism. The figures are in hiding, 

 but the moon is shining with a silvery clearness that 

 throw s moving wolf shadows on the snow to the trap 

 per s very feet. 



Then the man knows that he has been tricked. 



The Indian knows the wolf-pack too well to at 

 tempt flight from these sleuths of the forest. He 

 knows, too, one thing that wolves of forest and prairie 

 hold in deadly fear fire. Two or three shots ring into 

 the darkness followed by a yelping howl, which tells 

 him there is one wolf less, and the others will hold off 

 at a safe distance. Contrary to the woodman s tra 

 ditions of chopping only on a windy day, the Indian 

 whips out his axe and chops with all his might till he 

 has wood enough for a roaring fire. That will keep 

 the rascals away till the pack goes off in full cry, or 

 da}light comes. 



