Feb. 27, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
RETRIBUTION. 
A TR.VPPER friend of mine relates a very 
laughable occurrence that once took place at 
his cabin in the mountains. He and his chum 
were camped in a small shanty not far from 
the edge of a mountain lake. Radiating from 
the shanty were several lines of traps in dif¬ 
ferent directions, and these trappers often slept 
out at night while visiting and cleaning out 
distant traps, says a writer in the Field. 
On their return from one of these trips they 
noticed that things looked somehow strange, 
yet they could not tell for a moment what was 
wrong. On opening the door things looked 
stranger still, for on the floor was a mixture 
of all their belongings, which had been pulled 
down from shelves and the walls—flour, 
matches, moccasins, tobacco, soap and numer¬ 
ous other things, with ashes sifted over every¬ 
thing. 
Inexperienced men might have thought a 
hurricane had come down the chimney and 
blown everything loose, but the two trappers 
knew better. Some animal had done this de- 
■ vastation, and. being professional mountain 
trappers, they had no difficulty in reaching a 
conclusion as to the name of the animal. A 
' wolverine had been there, and they fell to 
: calling him some appropriate names, inventing 
others as they found their vocabulary inade- 
' quate. 
During a momentary lull in the torrent of 
abuse they heard a slight scratching under the 
table, and there they found the worker of all 
the mischief, A blow of the ax finished him, 
and he was pulled out into the light. Their 
surprise was great to find most of the hair on 
his head singed off. and he was blind in both 
eyes. Then they set to work to read by the 
signs how it happened. They found that the 
wolverine had clambered up on to the roof, 
and had entered the cabin through the low, wide 
chimney. Once inside he began to examine 
and investigate everything, each in turn to be 
cast on the floor. The last thing to attract 
his attention was a powder horn. It was one 
of those old-fashioned cow horns with a piece 
of wood tacked in the large end and a small 
stopper stuck in the small end; it contained 
about half a pound of gunpowder. With this 
bright and shining article the “Indian devil” 
started to clamber up and out through the 
chimney. But, alas! he must have held the 
large end uppermost. By dryness the plug 
dropped out, and a fine stream of powder 
found its way to the center of the fire-place, 
where a few coals of fire had been kept alive. 
A flame shot up, an explosion followed, and 
down came the frightened, blinded beast. No 
doubt from agony and fear he crawled under 
the table, where they found him and put an 
end to his misery. 
THE PASSING OF THE WOODPILE. 
A Lewiston gentleman, who lives in the 
upper part of this city, has been sorely at loss 
of late to account for the mysterious disappear¬ 
ance of a woodpile, which has gradually been 
growing less in proportions for the last few 
weeks. He had been on the lookout for sneak 
thieves, but not a human being had trespassed 
near the woodpile as far as he could ascertain. 
But the depleted remains of a once big wood- 
pile stared him in the face, and at length, a few 
days ago. he stationed himself within easy gun¬ 
shot of the woodpile and vowed that he would 
watch till the real culprit appeared if he had to 
wait till doomsday. After he had watched all 
day without any sign of life in the vicinity of 
the woodpile, and the evening shades were fall¬ 
ing thick and fast about him, peering through 
the darkness he saw a neighbor’s Newfound¬ 
land dog walk Qoolly up to the woodpile, single 
out a big stick, and trudge away toward his 
master’s house with an air of innocence which 
was surprisingly vexatious to the proprietor of 
the firewood. The dog played his little game 
on the woodpile for the last time that night, for 
it is rumored that one more dog has passed 
from Lewiston to the happy hunting grounds 
during the last week.—Lewiston Journal. 
325 
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