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Fairies of the Fields

(435) T Tenacity of Life in the Wolf.

HREE large wolves having made havoc among the trained dogs of a party of fur-hunters, a price was set upon their heads. An old experienced wolf is not easy to catch; indeed, his cunning in avoiding all traps is quite wonderful. But an old Canadian, hoping to gain the reward, set some springtraps, which he fastened by a chain to a very large piece of wood. A terrible storm kept the old trapper at home for three days, but at length he visited his traps, and found one wolf caught and dead. The second trap had been set off without catching its prey, while the third trap had disappeared. After long and vain searching the old Canadian gave up hope of discovering his lost trap, and solaced himself by having gained one prize for the one wolf he had snared.

A month afterwards the people of Green Lake (about ninety miles distant from the spot where the traps had been set) saw a wolf walking on one of their lakes apparently with much difficulty. It was pursued and killed, and then discovered to be the very wolf which had stolen the trap, for the cumbrous steel was still attached to his leg. The wretched animal must have suffered much as he wandered through the forest for a whole month, dragging the heavy trap in the midst of the most intense cold. It was reduced to a mere skeleton from hunger, and this strange occurrence proves a tenacity of life in the wolf difficult to understand. Poor Little Joe.

ROP yer eyes wide open, Joey, PRO For I've brought you sumpin' great.

Apples! No, a heap sight better!

Don't you take no int'rest? Wait!

Flowers, Joe-I knowed you'd like 'em- Ain't them scrumptious? Ain't them high ?

Tears, my boy? Wot's them fur, Joey?

There-poor little Joe!-don't cry!

I was skippin' past a winder, Where a bang-up lady sot, All amongst a lot of bushes- Each one climbin' from a pot; Every bush had flowers on it- Pretty? Mebbe not! Oh, no!

Wish you could a seen 'em growin', It was sich a stunnin' show.

Well, I thought of you, poor feller, Lyin' here so sick and weak, Never knowin' any comfort, And I puts on lots o' cheek. "Missus," says I, "if you please, mum, Could I ax you for a rose ?

For my little brother, missus- Never seed one, I suppose."

Then I told her all about you- How I bringed you up-poor Joe! (Lackin' women folks to do it.) Sich a' imp you was, you know- Till yer got that awful tumble, Jist as I had broke yer in (Hard work, too,) to earn yer livin' Blackin' boots for honest tin.

How that tumble crippled of you, So's you couldn't hyper much- Joe, it hurted when I seen you Fur the first time with your crutch. "But," I says, "he's laid up now, mum, 'Pears to weaken every day;" Joe, she up and went to cuttin'- That's the how of this bokay.

Say! It seems to me, ole feller, You is quite yourself to-night; Kind o' chirk-it's been a fortnit Sence yer eyes has been so bright.

Better? Well, I'm glad to hear it !

Yes, they're mighty pretty, Joe.

Smellin' of 'em's made you happy?

Well, I thought it would, you know!

Never see the country, did you?

Flowers growin' everywhere!

Some time when you're better, Joey, Mebbe I kin take you there.

Flowers in heaven? 'M-I s'pose so; Dunno much about it, though; Ain't as fly as wot I might be On them topics, little Joe.

But I've heard it hinted somewheres That in heaven's golden gates Things is everlastin' cheerful- B'lieve that's wot the Bible states.

Likewise, there folks don't git hungry; So good people, when they dies, Finds themselves well fixed forever- Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes?

Thought they looked a little sing'ler.

Oh, no! Don't you have no fear; Heaven was made fur such as you is Joe, wot makes you look so queer?

Here-wake up! Oh, don't look that way!

Joe! My boy! Hold up yer head!

Here's yer flowers-you dropped 'em, Joey!

Oh, my God, can Joe be dead?