Sept. 29, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
49 1 
much hurt, strike heem head 011 stump, feel leetle 
sick an’ dizzy. 
‘‘Nex’ morning he say, ‘Who cornin’ wit’ me, 
help fin’ my knife? One wolf got foot of cold 
steel between heem ribs. He not go many miles.’ 
Jerome Soulnier an’ Narcisse Bodreau say dey 
come. All t’ree men have good gun, tomahawk 
an’ knife. Soon dey fin’ leetle bloodspot on snow, 
follow ’long an’ fin’ blood on bush. Spot get 
bigger an’ bigger, den fin’ place where wolf lie 
down, snow all red. Track make straight for St. 
Hillaire. Narcisse good hunter, he follow track 
all same as one hound. Presently dey see odder 
wolf track, four, five of dem, all follow ’long after 
wounded wolf. Nar-cisse say, ‘You get you’ 
knife, mebee, but you get no skin, Pere Robichau. 
Odder wolf fin’ wounded one. Dey keel heem so 
soon dey catch heem.’ Dey go on an’ on, pres¬ 
ently hear clock strike to St. Hillaire, see smoke 
from chimbley, come into clearing back of Louis 
Commeau shanty. Not one gunshot from heem 
door dey fin’ all left of Louis. Heem body stark 
naked, mor’n half eat up, snow all red wit’ 
blood, same you kill one deer. Wolf track thick 
all round, no man-track come from shanty to 
place where Louis lie.’ Pere Robichau stoop 
down, say, ‘W’at dis?’ Pick up long, narrow blade 
of knife, lak’ leetle bayonette—same he carry in 
heem stick. 
“When dead men buried, father tak’ all he got, 
tak’ Etienne an’ me, an’ come to Shediac; we 
stop dere until he die. Etienne live dere now. 
It near feefty year since we leave St. Hillaire. 
Most people say dere no such t'ing as Loup 
Garou. I know different—I seen heem.” 
Daylight was breaking. I threw the last of our 
fuel on the fire and bade Joe boil the kettle and 
prepare a rechauffe of porcupine. There are 
nicer menus for breakfast than flinty biscuit, 
warmed-up porcupine and black tea. I ascended 
the huge boulder of granite in front of our tent 
and swept the barrens with my field glasses, hop¬ 
ing to see something of the band of caribou we 
were following. Two shots sounded in a little 
bunch of bushes not half a mile away. I turned 
the glass in that direction, and saw the blue 
smoke drift away. “I’m going down to see 
Bruno and the Loup Garou. You can stay here 
unless you want to come,” I remarked to Demin- 
gues. 
His fears had vanished with the advent of day¬ 
light; he came with me, and in ten minutes we 
were seated by a comfortable fire, the materials for 
a thoroughly good breakfast displayed in the fry- 
ingpan and Dutch oven. Two mongrel hounds 
watched the proceedings with the greatest in¬ 
terest. Paddy Ryan (ex-poacher, game warden, 
guide, etc.), introduced me to his friends who 
were contemplating a week’s wildcat hunting, and 
had brought their hounds from the States with 
them. 
“I’m afraid we shan’t do much to-day,” re¬ 
marked one of the strangers; “Those confounded 
dogs chewed their leashes off last night, and spent 
the whole time in the woods. They came back 
at daylight, and I guess they’ve scared every fox 
and wildcat ten miles round. They’re queer look¬ 
ing brutes, but they’re devils to work. I brought 
their mother back from Klondike with me. She’s 
half foxhound and half wolf.” 
I noticed a little brass bugle on the fir branches. 
“You were blowing this last night,” I remarked. 
“Yes, I use it in preference to a whistle; the 
sound travels further. Do you know, I had quite 
an experience with those dogs and that bugle 
up the Gatineau River last year. I lost them one 
night, and blew for all I was worth to try to 
get them in. There was an old fellow trapping 
in that region, and he got the worst scare of his 
life; thought it was some kind of a ghost they 
keep on tap in the woods there. I did my best to 
get the story out of him, but he spoke hardly 
any English, and I can’t speak ten words of 
French. As far as I could make out it was some 
yarn about a man turning into a wolf, or a wolf 
turning into a man. I take no stock in that kind 
of thing. Breakfast’s ready. What do you say 
to a small appetiser before we begin?” 
Edmund F. L. Jenner. 
Nova Scotia. 
THOUSANDS OF FIGHTING' FROGS. 
From the Japan Times. 
A desperate battle recently took place in a valley in 
Ojimura, in the Horima prefecture, between two armies 
of frogs. 
A corps of about 4,000 frogs took up a strong position 
at the entrance to the valley, and. were attacked by an 
invading army in two divisions of 3,000 each. 
The battle began at 9 in the morning and continued, 
amid an indescribable scene of bustle and noise of 
croakings, until 10 next day. 
There were many interested spectators of the unusual 
spectacle, and amid great excitement the invaders ousted 
the defending army and overran the valley, croaking 
their triumph as they went. 
More than 700 frog warriors were killed and 2,000 
wounded. 
The method of warfare adopted by the frogs was to 
jump at each other fiercely, and snap and bite until 
mortal injuries were inflicted or they became exhausted. 
Reminiscences of a Sportsman.* 
Mr. J. Parker Whitney, the well-known 
sportsman of Boston, who has written several 
books of peculiar interest to miners and agri¬ 
culturists, has, under the title quoted above, 
given sportsmen a volume they can read with 
pleasure and profit, for, while in it are related 
the experiences of one of their fellows in the 
hunting field, it contains a great deal of valu¬ 
able special information on subjects every 
lover of the rod and gun is constantly search¬ 
ing for. 
Mr. Whitney has been a very successful 
man in the business world and a leader in 
enterprises of gigantic proportions. Surely if 
such an excuse were justifiable, he had every 
reason to plead business engagements when 
vacations may have been proposed. But he 
holds views radically different from those of 
some of his business associates. “From 
youth,” he says, “1 have been very fond of out¬ 
door life and sports of all kinds, and al¬ 
though for many years engaged extensively in 
business affairs, 1 have never failed in giving 
way for these pursuits. Often such indulgence 
was seemingly to my disadvantage; but after 
half a century of gratification in this respect I 
am well satisfied in believing I have no occasion 
for regret, for one cannot be deprived of en¬ 
joyments once possessed. I may add that in pur¬ 
suit of adventure I have gained some important 
pecuniary advantages from opportunities offer¬ 
ing.” 
After reading the narrative one cannot help 
being impressed with Mr. Whitney’s skill in ar¬ 
ranging purely business journeys so that shoot¬ 
ing and fishing could be indulged in at the most 
favorable times and places. He admits that it 
was at times extremely difficult for him to ar¬ 
range vacations when business engagements were 
pressing, but although he does not say as much, 
the reader is shown how our author obtained 
that rest and relaxation which enabled him to 
work at the high pressure his many and varied 
commercial interests demanded. His nature 
called for a life in the woods and on the waters 
occasionally, and realizing this fact, he worked 
toward that end, and thus it is that after an un- 
*New York, Forest and Stream Publishing Company. 
