Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1871-02-16
N. O. WALLACE, ]
Hunting Wolves in Rus
SiQ ' r

various resources-the trap, the
pitfall, the inseparable topor, OF
short axe, a deadly weapon in
such hand, but the program
me of a regular "wolf hunt" in
the provinces is always the
same. At some abnormal hour
"between night and day." you
are aroused almost as it seems,
before you are well asleep from
a rough couch in one of the lit
tie log-huts of some outlying
village, by a violent shake of
the shoulder, and a hoarse voice
admonishing you to "get up,
and look sharp for there is no
time to lose" You make a
hasty toilet, and sallying forth,
see in 'front.' of the huta in the
dim light of the coming morn
ing, huge dark shapeless mass
(Which, as your eyes get used to
the darkness, assumes the form
of broad, heavy, three-horse
sled, with very high sides, not
unlike an enormous Washing
tub), around which are fitting
three or four spectral figures
with lanterns, the fitful glare
making their grim bearded fa-
ces look grimmer and less hui
man than ever, Guns, ammu-
milton, haversacks, are slowed
away in the bottom Of the con-
veyance-and Qast but not
least) young pig; your query
respecting which elicits from
the leader of the party only
the oracular answer that "it'l
come in hand by-and-by;" and
all being now ready, the hun
ters squeeze themselves into
their places, the driver shakes
his reins with a "Wo-o-oiv
and away we go into the dark
ness. Mile after mile of the
frozen waste goes by like a
dream, till at length spectral
shadows Of the forest slowly
gather round US, and the squeals
Of our unlucky pig (whose ears
one of our party is now pinch
ing lustily) begin to be an
swered by another sound, which
no one who has once heard it
will easily forget-not the long
melancholy howl wherewith a
supperless wolf may be heard
bemoaning himself on the out
skirts of Moscow, almost any
night in the week, but a
quick snarling cry, as if one sees
his dinner coming, and wishes to
hasten the bringer Of it. And
there they come at last, the
gaunt, wiry, slouching fellows,
with their bushy tails, and. fiat
narrow heads, and yellow, THE
wish murderous eyes. There is
perhaps nothing on earth more
/ thoroughly mean and hateful
looking, at first sight, than the
genuine Russian wolf; but the
rascal has certain picturesque
ness of his own, notwithstan-
ding, though of a disagreeable
kind. There is something
grand in the dogged and sinis-
I ter tenacity Of itspursuit; COM
ing on, with head thrown for
ward, and sharp white fangs
unsheathed, untiringly and un-
relenting like hunting Fate,
with his long gallop, which can tire
The hounds deep hate and hunters fire.
I But thereis no leisure for NOR
alizing now; for the wolves are
almost level with our sledge,
and it is time to let fly. Bang!
! THE foremost of the pack roll
ed over on his side, kicking
J convulsively; but the rest gal
rlop on, unheeding. Bang!
Bang! and two more fell dead,
) blotting the snow around with
a smear Of dull crimson. Some
of the boldest pursuers swarm
up to the sledge, and attempt
to leap over the encircling bar
rier; while we hammer them
with the but end of our pieces,
and chop at their paws with
hatchets, and slash them across
the eyes with hunting-knives-
} the two hindmost Of our party
meanwhile cracking at them O.
fver our shoulders as fast as they
can load. So for a time the
Irunning-fight goes fierceiy on,
making together very strik-
ing tableau. The white skele-
}, ton traeery of the frozen for
est, the long snaky line of the
pursuing pack, shadowy and
spectrak as If bodied of the
mist from which it emerges; the
whirling figures of the foremost
wolyes-amid the tossing spray