THE WOLF OF MUSKOKA 159 



and recrossed the Atlantic twenty times, and it 

 was on one of these occasions that I made the 

 acquaintance of a young hunter from the 

 neighbourhood of the Caribou country, south of 

 Hudson's Bay, who told me one of the most 

 extraordinary stories of an escape from wolves 

 that I have ever heard. I do not hold myself 

 responsible in any way for its truth, but as it 

 deeply interested me, I may be pardoned for 

 repeating it as I wrote it down afterwards in my 

 own words : 



" The howling of the wolves increased, and 

 appeared to be as near to us as when we 

 first started. It was almost dark, and our faces 

 looked deathly pale in the uncertain light 

 of the forest. Jack led the way with a step 

 which never appeared to falter or tire. I could 

 not help admiring his cool, manly self-possession. 

 Suddenly he stopped, and, turning his head, 

 spoke with a clear, calm voice : ' I am afraid we 

 shall have a hot time of it unless we can get clean 

 away. I have travelled the bush now for twenty 

 years, but I never heard the howling of wolves 

 like this ; there must be hundreds of them.' 



" c Do you think they have tracked us ? ' I 

 asked, feeling very cold and shivering. 



