140 
WILD AMERICANS 
“Hello,” the three riders answered. “What have 
you there, a bear?” Uncle Ely asked the question, 
dismounting. 
The dark man grinned. 
“Come, I show you,” he invited. “This the bes' 
wild fellow in all the North. The meanest animal. 
He ver' mean, but we lak him. I catch the baby one, 
two years ago. Keep him in the cage here. I am 
name Pierre. And you?” 
When introductions were over, the group walked 
over to study the caged beast. 
“Doesn't look exactly like a bear,” said Buck. 
“No, not bear,” Pierre said. “Carcajou.” 
“Car—what did you say?” 
“Carcajou, we call him in Canada. The Americans 
say wolverene. But he does look lak the bear.” 
Pierre squatted before the cage and held Ginger 
on his knee. The animal was snarling at them. 
“Eve heard of wolverenes,” Uncle Ely said, “but 
never saw one before. You say he is very mean?” 
“Oof, he is meanest beast!” Pierre snapped. “All 
the time I have the trouble with him and his kind. 
I set traps for animals with good fur to sell. But this 
carcajou—this wolverene—he take the bait, throw 
the trap and break it. 
