A SKULKING PAINTER- 81 
a little disgusted that I had seen nothing sufficiently worthy 
of being considered fit game for the heavy missiles which 
both my barrels contained. . In‘fact, I could not help open- 
ly grumbling that I should have been inveigled into such a 
useless journey, which elicited the response from my asso- 
ciate that I might thank my stars we had got back safe. 
With this answer for the time I had to be satisfied; but 
that evening the mystery came out, and the selfish motives 
that had dictated my companionship being sought. I will 
endeavor to state the story as told by the trapper : 
“Last April, when the snow was on the ground, I laid out 
the traps we have to-day lifted. The traveling was very 
bad. at the time, for it was near the break-up of winter. I 
got along the ridge all right; but as I thought it better to 
return as I had come, I determined to retrace my steps. I 
had scarcely faced homeward when I found, to my surprise, 
the print of an animal following my old track. I looked 
in every direction to see where the follower could be, but 
was unable to detect him. However, I knew well that the 
skulking villain was no other than a painter (Anglicé, 
puma); and as I had only my old single-barrel loaded with 
bird-shot, I became justly scared. All of a tremble, I con- 
tinued my course, and you may bet I made tracks. The 
very evidence 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 
- making supper off me.” 
At the time I could not help thinking that my host had 
been needlessly alarmed, and told him so, when he inform- 
ed me that nothing would have induced 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 win- 
4* 
