“The brute now resolved, apparently, upon a waiting game. After pawing his defiance afresh, he proceeded to walk around and eat a little, ever and anon raising his head to eye me with a sullen and obstinate hatred. For my own part, now that time had ceased to be an object, I sat down and racked my brains over the problem. Would the brute keep up this guard all through the night? I felt as if there was a sleuth-hound on my trail. That now silent presence across the creek began to weigh upon me like a nightmare. At last, in desperation, I resolved upon a straight-away race for the dike. As I pondered on the chances, they seemed to grow more and more favorable. I was a good runner, and though handicapped with the pole, would have a fair start on my enemy. Having made up my mind to the venture I rose to my feet, ready to seize the smallest advantage.

“As I rose, the bull wheeled sharply, and sprang to the edge of the bank with a muffled roar. But seeing that I stood leaning idly on my pole and made no motion to depart, he soon tossed away in the sulks and resumed his grazing. In a few moments a succulent streak of clover so engrossed him that he turned his back fairly upon me – and like a flash I was off, speeding noiselessly over the grass.

“Not till several seconds had been gained did I hear the angry bellow which told of the detection of my stratagem. I did not stop to look back, and I certainly made some very pretty running; but the dike seemed still most dismally remote when I heard that heavy gallop plunging behind me. Nearer, nearer it drew, with terrible swiftness; and nearer and nearer drew the dike. I reached it where it was perhaps about seven feet high. Slackening up to plant my pole squarely, I sprang, and had barely time to steady myself on the summit when the beast brought up with a roar at my very feet. It was a narrow, a very narrow escape.

“With a sigh of relief and gratitude I sat me down to rest, and took some satisfaction in poking the ribs of the baffled brute below. Then, lightly balancing my pole in one hand, I turned my face toward the ‘bito,’ and made my way thoughtfully homeward. It was altogether too literally a ‘hair’s-breadth’ adventure.”

When Ranolf concluded there was a general stir. Pipes were refilled, and a “snack” (of biscuits, cheese, and liquids to taste) was passed around. Then Stranion said, —

“It’s your turn, O. M.”

“But it’s bedtime,” pleaded I; “and besides, as I have the writing to do, let others do the speaking!”

My arguments were received with a stony stare, so I made haste to begin.

“Like Magnus,” said I, “modesty forbids me to be my own hero. I’ll tell you a story which I picked up last fall, when I was alleged to be pigeon-shooting twenty miles above Fredericton. We will call the yarn —

‘SAVED BY THE CATTLE.’

“I was talking to an old farmer whom I had chanced to come across, and who had passed me a cheery good-day. After I had spoken of the crops, and he had praised my new gun, I broached a subject of much interest to myself.

“How do you account for the fact, if it is a fact,” said I, slipping a cartridge into my right barrel, “that the caribou are getting yearly more numerous in the interior of New Brunswick, while other game seems to be disappearing. As for the wild pigeons, you may say they are all gone. Here I have been on the go since before sunrise, and that bird is the only sign of a pigeon I have so much as got a glimpse of.”

“‘Well,’ replied my companion, as for the pigeons, I can’t say how it is. In old times I’ve seen them so plenty round here you could knock them down with a stick; that is, if you were anyways handy with a stick. But they do say that caribou are increasing because the wolves have disappeared. You see, the wolves used to be the worst enemy of the caribou, because they could run them down nice and handy in winter, when the snow was deep and the crust so thin that the caribou were bound to break through it at every step. However, I don’t believe there has been a wolf seen in this part of the country for fifty years, and it’s only within the last ten years or so that the caribou have got more plenty.”

“We had seated ourselves, the old farmer and I, on a ragged snake-fence that bounded a buckwheat-field overlooking the river. The field was a new clearing, and the ripened buckwheat reared its brown heads among a host of blackened and distorted stumps. It was a crisp and delicious autumn morning, and the solitary pigeon that had rewarded my long tramp over the uplands was one that I had surprised at its breakfast in the buckwheat. Now, finding that my new acquaintance was likely to prove interesting, I dropped my gun gently into the fence corner, loosened my belt a couple of holes, and asked the farmer if he had himself ever seen any wolves in New Brunswick.

“‘Not to say many,’ was the old man’s reply; ‘but they say that troubles never come single, and so, what wolves I have seen, I saw them all in a heap, so to speak.’

“As he spoke, the old man fixed his eyes on a hilltop across the river, with a far-off look that seemed to promise a story. I settled into an attitude of encouraging attention, and waited for him to go on. His hand stole deep into the pocket of his gray homespun trousers, and brought to view a fig of ‘black-jack,’ from which he gnawed a thoughtful bite.

“Instinctively he passed the tobacco to me; and on my declining it, which I did with grave politeness, he began the following story: —

“When I was a little shaver about thirteen years old, I was living on a farm across the river, some ten miles up. It was a new farm, which father was cutting out of the woods; but it had a good big bit of ‘interval,’ so we were able to keep a lot of stock.

“One afternoon late in the fall, father sent me down to the interval, which was a good two miles from the house, to bring the cattle home. They were pasturing on the aftermath; but the weather was getting bad, and the grass was about done, and father thought the ‘critters,’ as we called them, would be much better in the barn. My little ten-year-old brother went with me, to help me drive them. That was the time I found out there were wolves in New Brunswick.

“The feed being scarce, the cattle were scattered badly; and it was supper-time before we got them together, at the lower end of the interval, maybe three miles and a half from home. We didn’t mind the lateness of the hour, however, though we were getting pretty hungry, for we knew the moon would be up right after sundown. The cattle after a bit appeared to catch on to the fact that they were going home to snug quarters and good feed, and then they drove easy and hung together. When we had gone about half-way up the interval, keeping along by the river, the moon got up and looked at us over the hills, very sharp and thin. ‘Ugh!’ says Teddy to me in half a whisper, ‘don’t she make the shadows black?’ He hadn’t got the words more than out of his mouth when we heard a long, queer, howling sound from away over the other side of the interval; and the little fellow grabbed me by the arm, with his eyes fairly popping out of his head. I can see his startled face now; but he was a plucky lad for his size as ever walked.

“‘What’s that?’ he whispered.

“‘Sounds mighty like the wind,’ said I, though I knew it wasn’t the wind, for there wasn’t a breath about to stir a feather.

“The sound came from a wooded valley winding down between the hills. It was something like the wind, high and thin, but by and by getting loud and fierce and awful, as if a lot more voices were joining in; and I just tell you my heart stopped beating for a minute. The cattle heard it, you’d better believe, and bunched together, kind of shivering. Then two or three young heifers started to bolt; but the old ones knew better, and hooked them back into the crowd. Then it flashed over me all at once. You see, I was quite a reader, having plenty of time in the long winters. Says I to Teddy, with a kind of sob in my throat, ‘I guess it must be wolves.’ – ‘I guess so,’ says Teddy, getting brave after his first start. And then, not a quarter of a mile away, we saw a little pack of gray brutes dart out of the woods into the moonlight. I grabbed Teddy by the hand, and edged in among the cattle.

“‘Let’s get up a tree!’ said Teddy.

“‘Of course we will,’ said I, with a new hope rising in my heart. We looked about for a suitable tree in which we might take refuge, but our hopes sank when we saw there was not a decent-sized tree in reach. Father had cleared off everything along the river-bank except some Indian willow scrub not six feet high.

“If the cattle, now, had scattered for home, I guess it would have been all up with Teddy and me, and father and mother would have been mighty lonesome on the farm. But what do you suppose the ‘critters’ did? When they saw those gray things just lengthening themselves out across the meadow, the old cows and the steers made a regular circle, putting the calves – with me and Teddy – in the centre. They backed in onto us pretty tight, and stood with their heads out and horns down, for all the world like a company of militia forming square to receive a charge of cavalry. And right good bayonets they made, those long, fine horns of our cattle.

“To keep from being trodden on, Teddy and I got onto the backs of a couple of yearlings, who didn’t like it any too well, but were packed in so tight they couldn’t help themselves. As the wolves came streaking along through the moonlight, they set up again that awful, shrill, wind-like, swelling howl, and I thought of all the stories I had read of the wolves of Russia and Norway, and such countries; and the thought didn’t comfort me much. I didn’t know what I learned afterward, that the common wolf of North America is much better fed than his cousin in the Old World, and consequently far less bloodthirsty. I seemed to see fire flashing from the eyes of the pack that were rushing upon us; and I thought their white fangs, glistening in the moonlight, were dripping with the blood of human victims.

“‘I expect father’ll hear that noise,’ whispered Ted, ‘and he and Bill’ (that was the hired man) ‘will come with their guns and save us.’

“‘Yes,’ said I scornfully; ‘I suppose you’d like them to come along now, and get eaten up by the wolves!’

“I was mighty sorry afterward for speaking that way, for it near broke Teddy’s heart. However, sobbing a bit, the little fellow urged in self-defence, ‘Why, there’s only five wolves anyway, and father and Bill could easily kill them!’

“It was true. There were just five of the brutes, though my excited eyes had been seeing about fifty – just such a pack as I had been used to reading about. However, these five seemed mighty hungry, and now they were right onto us.

“I guess they weren’t used to cattle like ours. Father’s old black-and-white bull was running the affair that night, and he stood facing the attack. The wolves never halted; but with their red tongues hanging out, and their narrow jaws snapping like fox-traps, they gave a queer, nasty gasp that it makes my blood run cold to think of, and sprang right onto the circle of horns.

“We heard the old bull mumble something away down in his throat, and he sort of heaved up his hind-quarters and pitched forward, without leaving the ranks. The next thing we saw, one of his long horns was through the belly of the leader wolf, and the animal was tossed up into the air, yelping like a kicked dog. He came down with a thud, and lay snapping at the grass and kicking; while the other four, who had been repulsed more or less roughly, drew back and eyed their fallen comrade with an air of disapproval. I expected to see them jump upon him and eat him at once, but they didn’t; and I began to distrust the stories I had read about wolves. It appeared, however, that it was not from any sense of decency that they held back, but only that they wanted beef rather than wolf meat, as we found a little later.

“Presently one of the four slouched forward, and sniffed at his dying comrade. The brute was still lively, however, and snapped his teeth viciously at the other’s legs, who thereupon slouched back to the pack. After a moment of hesitation, the four stole silently, in single file, round and round the circle, turning their heads so as to glare at us all the time, and looking for a weak spot to attack. They must have gone round us half a dozen times, and then they sat down on their tails, and stuck their noses into the air, and howled and howled for maybe five minutes steady. Teddy and I, who were now feeling sure our ‘critters’ could lick any number of wolves, came to the conclusion the brutes thought they had too big a job on their hands and were signalling for more forces. ‘Let ’em come,’ exclaimed Teddy. But we were getting altogether too confident, as we soon found out.

“After howling for a while, the wolves stopped and listened. Then they howled again, and again they stopped and listened; but still no answer came. At this they got up and once more began prowling round the circle, and everywhere they went you could see the long horns of the cattle pointing in their direction. I can tell you cattle know a thing or two more than they get credit for.

“Well, when the wolves came round to their comrade’s body, they saw it was no longer kicking, and one of them took a bite out of it as if by way of an experiment. He didn’t seem to care for wolf, and turned away discontentedly. The idea struck Teddy as so funny that he laughed aloud. The laugh sounded out of place, and fairly frightened me. The cattle stirred uneasily; and as for Teddy, he wished he had held his tongue, for the wolf turned and fixed his eye upon him, and drew nearer and nearer, till I thought he was going to spring over the cattle’s heads and seize us. But in a minute I heard the old bull mumbling again in his throat; and the wolf sprang back just in time to keep from being gored. How I felt like hugging that bull!

“I cheered Teddy up, and told him not to laugh or make a noise again. As the little fellow lifted his eyes he looked over my shoulder, and, instantly forgetting what I had been saying, shouted, ‘Here come father and Bill!’ I looked in the same direction and saw them, sure enough, riding furiously towards us. But the wolves didn’t notice them, and resumed their prowling.

“On the other side of the circle from our champion, the black-and-white bull, there stood a nervous young cow; and just at this time the wolf who had got his eye on Teddy seemed to detect this weak spot in the defence. Suddenly he dashed like lightning on the timid cow, who shrank aside wildly, and opened a passage by which the wolf darted into the very centre of the circle. The brute made straight for Teddy, whom I snatched from his perch and dragged over against the flank of the old bull. Instantly the herd was in confusion. The young cow had bounded into the open and was rushing wildly up the interval, and three of the wolves were at her flanks in a moment. The wolf who had marked Teddy for his prey leaped lightly over a calf or two, and was almost upon us, when a red ‘moolley’ cow, the mother of one of these calves, butted him so fiercely as to throw him several feet to one side. Before he could reach us a second time the old bull had spotted him. Wheeling in his tracks, as nimble as a squirrel, he knocked me and Teddy over like a couple of ninepins, and was onto the wolf in a flash. How he did mumble and grumble way down in his stomach; but he fixed the wolf. He pinned the brute down and smashed him with his forehead, and then amused himself tossing the body in the air; and just at this moment father and Bill rode up and snatched us two youngsters onto their saddles.

“‘Are you hurt?’ questioned father breathlessly. But he saw in a moment we were not, for we were flushed with pride at the triumph of our old bull.

“‘And be they any more wolves, so’s I kin git a shot at ’em?’ queried Bill.

“‘Old Spot has fixed two of ’em,’ said I.

“‘And there’s the other two eating poor Whitey over there,’ exclaimed Teddy, pointing at a snarling knot of creatures two or three hundred yards across the interval.

“Sure enough, they had dragged down poor Whitey and were making a fine meal off her carcass. But Bill rode over and spoiled their fun. He shot two of them, while the other left like a gray streak. And that’s the last I’ve seen of wolves in this part of the country!”

“‘That was a close shave,’ said I; ‘and the cattle showed great grit. I’ve heard of them adopting tactics like that.’

“‘Well,’ said the old farmer, getting down from the fence rail and picking up his tin can. ‘I must be moving. Good-day to you.’ Before he had taken half a dozen steps he turned round and remarked, ‘I suppose, now, if those had been Norway wolves or Roossian wolves, the “critters” would have had no show?’

“‘Very little, I imagine,’ was my answer.”

Whether it was that my story had gone far toward putting every one to sleep, I know not. The fact remains, to be interpreted as one will, that no longer was there any objection raised when I proposed that we should turn in. That night, I think, no one of us lay awake over long. Before I dropped asleep I heard two owls hooting hollowly to each other through the wet woods. The sound changed gradually to a clamor of wolves over their slain victim, and then to the drums and trumpets of an army on the march; and then I awoke to find it broad daylight, and Stranion beating a tin pan just over my head.