68 PRAJRIE AND FOREST. 



As the sun set, we once more regained the path, 

 well fatigued with our rough and protracted tramp, 

 myself not a little disgusted that I had seen nothing 

 sufficiently worthy of being considered fit game for 

 the heavy missiles which both my barrels contained. 

 In fact, I could not help openly grumbling that I 

 should have been inveigled into such a useless journey, 

 which elicited the response from my associate that I 

 might thank my stars we had got back safe. With 

 this answer for the time I had to be satisfied, but 

 that evening the mystery came out, and the selfish 

 motives that had dictated my companionship being 

 sought. I will endeavour to state the story as told 

 by the trapper. 



Last April, when the snow was on the ground, I 

 laid out the traps we have to-day lifted. The travel- 

 ling was very bad at the time, for it was near the 

 break-up of winter. I got along the ridge all right ; 

 but as I thought it better to return as I had come, 

 I determined to retrace my steps. I had scarcely 

 faced homewards when I found, to my surprise, the 

 print of an animal following my old track. I looked 

 in every direction to see where the follower could 

 be, but was unable to detect him. However, I knew 

 well that the skulking villain was no other than a 

 painter (Anglice, puma) ; and as I had only my old 

 single-barrel loaded with bird-shot, I became justly 

 scared. All of a tremble, I continued my course, and 

 you may bet I made tracks. The very evidence of the 

 brute following me showed he was after no good, and 

 I was right ; for as I drew near the outside edge of 

 the swamp I saw him right ahead ; but I went out of 

 the way to avoid him, and after I left the wood I 



