120 WOLF DAYS IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



sun came in sight in the east. Right here we made a 

 blunder, as the dog wanted to take the trail we were 

 following the night before, while I had made up my 

 mind to go to the top of the mountain where the wolves 

 had answered me first the evening before. When we 

 went about one-third the distance to the hill top we 

 found a path or trail that only an experienced woods- 

 man would detect. This path led straight up or down 

 the hill, and as old Rover wanted to go down hill, we 

 decided to follow him. We had gone about thirty 

 rods when we came to a fiat rock. This rock was 

 about level on top and about sixteen feet square. The 

 ground on the hillside was as high as the rock, while 

 the down-hill side of the rock was about three feet 

 above the ground. The leaves that had fallen from 

 the trees for ages lay on this rock the same as they 

 did on the ground around it. Here on top of this rock, 

 about the centre part of it, was something that looked 

 nice to me. Here in the leaves was a wolf's bed that 

 had been occupied many times. It resembled a dog's 

 bed in a straw pile; a ring of leaves about six inches 

 high all worn fine. And at this season of the year, 

 being the time all animals shed their winter coat, there 

 was wolf hair enough in this bed, and mixed with the 

 broken leaves in the ring around it, to make a dozen 

 birds' nests. Now we are sure we are going to find 

 the coveted prize. As we looked for the path from 

 this rock we could not see any, so decided we were "in 

 wrong" and retraced our path up the hill. After we 

 had gone six or eight rods past the point where 



