Wolves attack the horses, and Cameron circumvents the wolves—­A bear-hunt, in which Henri shines conspicuous—­Joe and the “Natter-list”—­An alarm—­A surprise and a capture.

We must now return to the camp where Walter Cameron still guarded the goods, and the men pursued their trapping avocations.

Here seven of the horses had been killed in one night by wolves while grazing in a plain close to the camp, and on the night following a horse that had strayed was also torn to pieces and devoured.  The prompt and daring manner in which this had been done convinced the trader that white wolves had unfortunately scented them out, and he set several traps in the hope of capturing them.

White wolves are quite distinct from the ordinary wolves that prowl through woods and plains in large packs.  They are much larger, weighing sometimes as much as a hundred and thirty pounds; but they are comparatively scarce, and move about alone, or in small bands of three or four.  Their strength is enormous, and they are so fierce that they do not hesitate, upon occasions, to attack man himself.  Their method of killing horses is very deliberate.  Two wolves generally undertake the cold-blooded murder.  They approach their victim with the most innocent-looking and frolicsome gambols, lying down and rolling about, and frisking presently, until the horse becomes a little accustomed to them.  Then one approaches right in front, the other in rear, still frisking playfully, until they think themselves near enough, when they make a simultaneous rush.  The wolf which approaches in rear is the true assailant; the rush of the other is a mere feint.  Then both fasten on the poor horse’s haunches, and never let go till the sinews are cut and he is rolling on his side.

The horse makes comparatively little struggle in this deadly assault; he seems paralyzed, and soon falls to rise no more.

Cameron set his traps towards evening in a circle with a bait in the centre, and then retired to rest.  Next morning he called Joe Blunt, and the two went off together.

“It is strange that these rascally white wolves should be so bold when the smaller kinds are so cowardly,” remarked Cameron, as they walked along.

“So ’tis,” replied Joe; “but I’ve seed them other chaps bold enough too in the prairie when they were in large packs and starvin’.”

“I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows, and help them to eat what they kill, though they generally sit round and look on at the killing.”

“Hist!” exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun; “there he is, an’ no mistake.”

There he was, undoubtedly.  A wolf of the largest size with one of his feet in the trap.  He was a terrible-looking object, for, besides his immense size and naturally ferocious aspect, his white hair bristled on end and was all covered with streaks and spots of blood from his bloody jaws.  In his efforts to escape he had bitten the trap until he had broken his teeth and lacerated his gums, so that his appearance was hideous in the extreme.  And when the two men came up he struggled with all his might to fly at them.