“I suppose you boys think,” he said, “that this country is pretty wild and uncivilized.  But take my word for it, it is so tame now that it eats out of your hand compared to what it once was.  Why, now it’s the rarest thing in the world that you ever see a wolf—­that is, a real wolf,” as Tom started to interrupt.  “What I’m thinking of is a real timber wolf, not one of the slinking coyotes you see every once in a while.  There is no animal I’d go farther out of my way to avoid than a hungry timber wolf, and anybody else who knows anything at all about them will tell you the same thing.

“They are half as big again as a coyote, and twice as strong.  Why, a full-grown timber wolf will throw a running steer.  Man is the only thing in the world they’re afraid of, and they’re not afraid of him when they’re very hungry or running in packs.  When driven to it they’ll tackle almost anything.

“I remember one time when I had occasion to go to Belford, a little trading station some twenty or thirty miles from our camp, to secure some much-needed supplies.  It was the middle of winter, and an exceptionally cold and severe winter at that.  Fresh meat was naturally very scarce, and the wolves were becoming bolder and more fearless every day.  At night they used to prowl close about the camp, and howl until we got up and plugged one or two of their number, after which they generally dispersed for a time.

“Well, as I have said, it became necessary for me to take the journey for supplies, so one winter’s morning I hitched up the team to a rude sort of home-made sled I had made and started off for Belford.  The snow was quite deep and, needless to say, there had not been enough travel along the trail to pack it down.  The horses made heavy going of it, but we got there at last, and glad enough I was to get inside the shack that served as the general store and warm my half frozen hands and feet at the red hot stove.

“After I was comfortable once more I made my purchases, and after loading them into the sleigh said good-by to the boys and started out on the return journey.

“It was a mighty long trip for the horses, but they were a young team, full of fire and life, and I thought we could make back the same day without much trouble.  And likely enough we would have, with time to spare, if it hadn’t started to snow; lightly at first, but getting thicker all the time.  The horses had started out toward home at a brisk trot, but they gradually slowed down to a walk, and once or twice I had to stop them altogether to let them gather fresh strength.

“What with the slow going and the stops, dusk overtook us while we were still some eight or ten miles from the camp.  It couldn’t have been later than four o’clock, but the short winter’s day was even at that time drawing to a close, and the falling snow made it darker still.