The Wolver/Chapter 14

in March, down on Pukaso, the old trapper found a wolf-track in new-fallen snow, partly covered up. He picked the fresh flakes out of the track till he was at the bottom of it. He looked at it, felt of it, and then straightened up with an exclamation.

"By gar! Dat's an insult!" he grimaced. "Dat feller ain' gone yet! Two Toes ain' gone yet! He come along an' aroun' again!"

He found the same track on Twin Falls River, up on Swallow River, and where it led by his wigwams on two forks of his lines.

"Pore ole lonesome son of a goon!" he grumbled. "By gar! I feel sorry for dat ole feller. Ole Two Toes have a hard time, by gar! He get all crippled up in a trap, an' den he get all balled up in de col' an' sleet! Pore ole feller! Too bad I ain' got hees skin, by gar! But dat ole feller cross my track, when all dem other wolfs chased after me! By gar! He don' mean to harm me, an' he kep' right back in de woods, out of reach. I read it in the snow! It was like in a book, by gar! He don' hurt me, an' by gar, I don' hurt heem! Dat's only right, by gar!"

Nevertheless, French Louie must needs follow up the track with great caution, his rifle all ready. Presently he saw the wolf on the opposite side of a ravine, all curled up and sound asleep, unconscious of the near approach of the enemy who had broken up his great pack, slaying its, fiercest fighters and scattering the survivors.

French Louie raised his holster-rifle, drew down very steadily, and aimed for a long time; but he did not fire at Two Toes.

"By gar! A feller want to make sure!" he whispered to himself. "A feller don' want to make no mistake! By gar, a feller want to take good aim an' shoot straight!"

Always before, when French Louie had drawn a bead on a wolf, he had shot swiftly and surely; but this time he aimed and aimed. He changed the position of his feet, twisted his neck, around till he had a crick in it, and looked into the muzzle of his rifle to make sure that nothing was in it to deflect the bullet; but still he did not pull the trigger.

Suddenly Two Toes leaped to his feet, gave a startled sniff at the air, and jerked his head. Then away the wolf glided in the woods over the snow.

"By gar! It ain' no use shootin' at one of dem fellers, w'en he roons!" French Louie shook his head, "If dat feller' had laid still, an' my eyesight be'n all right, I bet I plug heem, right t'rough de heart! Yes, I bet dat feller never would keek, eef he hadn't jump up an' run jes' when he did! I bet I would! By gar!"

Then the old trapper, chuckling to himself at his joke, turned back to his trap-line and followed it again.

"Anyhow," he grinned, "de winter is 'mos' gone,, an' nex' time aroun' I take up de traps. Den I wait for de wind to be right, an' go over to Port Arthur in my boat. I bet dem fur-buyers look deir eyes out w'en dey see what a catch of mink, marten, lynx, pekans, an' foxes I have! Dem fellers ask, 'Wat yo' get dem wolfs for, anyhow? Dey ain' no good!' By gar! Not'in' but bounty an' t'ree, four dollaire a hide—dat what I tell 'em, by gar!"

THE END.