The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1892-05-12

while he still struggled In his death
throes, tore him limb from limb and
devoured HIM instantly.
That taste of blood maddened the
others, and, faster than l can tell it,
they leaped from everywhere on the
river till before and behind and each
side they rushed after my boat, which
Just then was squirting across for one
more tack ere / should have some
miles of straight sailing where the
wind would be favorable.
But right in my path, and where l
had to go about, pack of wolves,
forty at least, were coming or waiting,
for they seemed to have learned the
trick of the ice-boat's tacking.
Aiming quickly at those in front l
emptied my revolver into them; then
as | drew nearer | gave them the con-
tents of my other pistol. AS before each
wounded wolf was pounced upon and
torn and eaten by his comrades, but so
many of the beasts were at me that
all could not join in the bloody feast.
Still it broke their ranks and gave me
a few seconds longer to work my boat
around for its last short tack.
Hatchet in hand, on and into the
confused pack l dashed, hitting some
and sending them sprawling, but in
spite of everything three mighty fell
lows leaped on my boat, one Of them
knocking the tiller from my grasp as
he struggled for footing-the other
two hanging from the stern and drag
ging like the rest did. In moment
more th whole gang-then chasing
me not forty feet behind-would have
been fighting over my bones. Never
mnding the swapping, entangled wolf
aboard, l reached back and fetched my
sharp hatchet ON the paws Of the two
who were hanging on the stern, chop
ping them off and dropping the beasts
for their companions to finish.
Then regaining the helm and refill
ing the sail, shot away on straight
course down the river faster than my
| fleetest pursuers could follow.
Now / had time to attend to the wolf
aboard, who had fortunately jammed
his feet in the gear of the boat and
was held there, while he made furious
efforts to get at me.
Expecting he would break loose and
attack me before I could wholly re-
load, hastily slipped a cartridge in
my pistol and fired, hitting him in the
shoulder only.
The howl he gave was answered by
the hundreds in chase who, thank
! heaven, were dropping further and
further behind my flying boat.
dared not wait to load anew, for
my horrible passenger, made desperate
| by his wound, was surely forcing
himself loose. Fastening the tiller
| Jumped with my hatchet to strike him
ere he did so. AL the same instant he
leaped at me, catching good cut
across his eyes as lodged him. Then,
before he could turn, l sunk the
hatchet blade in the back of his head
with such force that it stuck there
while he fell limp and lifeless into the
seat had vacated.
Loading the pistol again put half
a dozen bullets into his head and body
to make certain he was dead-then.
sitting on his carcass, took the tiller
once more and steered for home and
safety.
The danger was over. Though l
saw few more wolves l passed them
so swiftly that chase was vain.
1t was dawn when | reached the
village bank with my awful trophy
and the tale | told astonished and
startled the anxious peasants who in
all their days had known no such an
escape as mine.
The wolf | killed was q monster
even for the Russian country and it
took two strong men to.carry it to my
house. Its skin, made into rug, now
decorates my American home and fur
nishes never-ending start for all
sorts of adventures, none of which
can approach the one told.-- Chicago
Sun.
A Naxy Kind Of Waannu