THE WOLF. 469 



fallen asleep; and. so it was. Worn out by fatigue, anxiety, 

 and watching, he was seized by that fatal and everlasting 

 slumber which, in this world, knows no waking. 



Tamiroo was stricken with frantic grief at the tragical 

 death of her husband, for whom she had entertained the 

 most constant and fervent affection. She mourned sincerely 

 for him for many months. After the period of her devoted 

 mourning was at an end, being still comparatively young, 

 her hand was sought by a number of the most distin- 

 guished warriors of the tribe; but, ever true to the memory 

 of the last partner of her life, she turned a deaf ear to their 

 entreaties, and devoted herself to the rearing of her two 

 sons in those valued branches of wood-craft essential to the 

 character of a brave warrior and expert hunter. At the 

 present day, the very best blood of the Tete du Boules can 

 be traced back to the intrepid hunter, Baptiste Sabourin. 



Were my narrative simply a romance of fancy, I might 

 have ended it by causing the faithful, bereaved wife, under 

 the influence of a paroxysm of grief, to precipitate herself 

 from some convenient cliff, or to end her sorrows beneath 

 the waters of some placid lake. I have preferred, however, 

 to relate the incidents of the tragedy as they have been 

 chronicled and handed down by the traditions of the tribe. 

 I have said chronicled, for it is well known that, in many 

 of the aboriginal tribes, records of famous and notable 

 events are perpetuated by signs and symbols inscribed or 

 depicted upon rolls of smooth birch-bark. 



Hunting the Wolf in Canada is chiefly confined to trap- 

 ping, or poisoning by strychnine, the latter being a ques- 

 tionable and unsportsmanlike mode of destroying wild 

 animals, which, except in very peculiar cases, ought to be 

 frowned upon and discouraged. Many of the animals 

 killed by poison wander off a long distance before they 

 die, suffering dreadful torture, and are never found. 



Wolves are seldom seen in the woods, even by those 

 whose vocations oblige them continually to travel through 

 the most solitary fastnesses. So keen is the eye and the 



