218 GUN, ROD, AND SADDLE. 



no other than a painter (Anglicb, puma) ; and as I 

 had only my old single-barrel loaded with bird-shot, 

 I became justly scared. All of a tremble, I started for 

 home, and you may bet I made tracks. The very evi- 

 dence of the brute following me, showed he was after 

 no good, and I was right ; for as I drew near the out- 

 side 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 heard him howl, doubtless in anger because 

 he had missed having me for supper. 



At the time I could not help thinking that my 

 host had been needlessly alarmed, and told him so, 

 when he informed me that nothing would have in- 

 duced him to return alone in fact, that he would 

 sooner have lost his traps than do so ; that a painter 

 in those regions, more especially in winter, was much 

 to be dreaded, and in corroboration informed me of a 

 little tragedy that occurred some years past in the 

 same neighborhood. Two friends once trapped the 

 township of Success. They had two beats, running in 

 reverse directions, while the shanty in which they 

 both lived together was situated equally distant from 

 each. The one who examined the traps to the north 

 to-day, visited those to the south to-morrow, chang- 

 ing their routes with each other daily, and always 



