8 4 
Northern Trails. Book I 
warm and foxes are sleepy, and then come back to find 
the poacher’s trail and follow it to where Eleemos was 
resting for the day in a sunny opening in the scrub. 
There Wayeeses would steal upon him from behind and 
put an end to his poaching; or else, if the fox used the 
same nest daily, as is often the case when he is not 
disturbed, the wolf would circle the scrub warily to find 
the path by which Eleemos usually came out on his 
night’s hunting. When he found that out Wayeeses 
would dart away in the long, rolling gallop that carries 
a wolf swiftly over the roughest country without fatigue. 
In an hour or two he would be back again with another 
wolf. Then Eleemos, dozing away in the winter sun¬ 
shine, would hear an unusual racket in the scrub behind 
him, — some heavy animal brushing about heedlessly 
and sniffing loudly at a cold trail. No wolf certainly, 
for a wolf makes no noise. So Eleemos would get down 
from his warm rock and slip away, stopping to look 
back and listen jauntily to the clumsy brute behind him, 
till he ran plump into the jaws of the other wolf that 
was watching alert and silent beside the runway. 
When the snows were deep and soft the wolves took 
to hunting the lynxes,— big, savage, long-clawed fighters 
that swarm in the interior of Newfoundland and play 
havoc with the small game. For a single lynx the wolves 
hunted in pairs, trailing the big prowler stealthily and 
rushing upon him from behind with a fierce uproar to 
