240 WHEAT AND WOMAN 



Pax, my dog, started off in pursuit with a yell of 

 desire, and for the first time I wished I had been 

 any sort of shot. I owe so much of the joy of 

 life on the prairie and elsewhere to living things, 

 that the very sight of a gun seems the symbol of 

 treachery to a friend ; but the prairie wolf does 

 incredible mischief in the poultry yard, and threatens 

 the prosperity of the country to such an extent 

 that in most districts of Saskatchewan the Govern- 

 ment still pays a dollar a head bounty. As anything 

 from four to six dollars may be obtained for a good 

 skin, wolf-hunting may be described as the com- 

 mercial sport of the prairie. 



The sight of those two hungry faces, the note 

 of desire in the yell of Pax, suggested wolf-hunting 

 and that a winter with the stock should prove an 

 experience with delightful points. I felt confident 

 that I could never again be poorer than I was at 

 the moment and reckoned that in putting in the 

 winter myself I could save at least twenty pounds 

 over the wages and winter's keep of a hired man, 

 in addition to my travelling and personal expendi- 

 ture ; so I resolved on a winter alone. 



Far more than the strenuous work attending 

 the care of stock and culture of land, the prospect 

 of solitude seems appalling to many women for 

 whom the active pursuit of farming offers strong 

 attraction, and material inducement. Often women 

 have talked to me with a flattering little hush of 

 awe in their voice about what they term one's 

 courage in relation to this winter spent on a prairie 

 farm with one's stock for company ; but surely 

 the true definition of courage is to do the thing 

 you are afraid to do. For instance, only the year 



