Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1895-04-01
TREED BY WOLVES.
THE STORY OF A HUNTERS ADvEN-
TURE IN NEWFOUNDLAND.

rhe r@rocious Beasts Wanted tho Dressed
Carbon. Were willing to Compromise
By Taking the Man, but They Got Neither
Though It Was . Close Call.
There's a master lot of game in New
foupdIand, they told me, when you go back
bit from the shore. There was one OLD
hunter named Bongthorn fell in with at
little post on the west coast who used to
bring down caribou meat to sell to the peo-
ple OF the settlements and to vessels that
put in there. The caribou-reindeer, as
some folks call 'em-run in great herds
there, hundreds of 'em together. BY all he
said there must be great hunting there Ior
a man who cared TO risk his life in such
wilderness.
One story he told mo about wolves that's
enough to make ones hair stand. 1t was
In the early spring, when the snow still
lay deep on the ground, that he killed
caribou one day, and having dressed him
hung him up to tree limb, out OF the
way Of tho wolves, while he went on TO
look for more game. When he came BACK
for his caribou, he saw so many wolves
gathered about under the tree trying 10
get at the meat that, for the first time in
his life he was frightened at 'em. He'd
about made up his mind that he'd go
quietly away and come again for the carl
bou when wolves were scarcer, when they
spied him and all came for him together
There was large spruce tree near by that
had been blown over and hal lodged
against other trees so that its trunk slant
cd up Just about as steep as man could
easily climb. He ran to the foot of the tree,
and not stopping to take off his snowshoes
walked right up that leaning trunk to the
forking of It's lower limbs. How he ever
got up there on snowshoes was a wonder
to him afterward, but he found himself
among tho lower branches with something
to hold on 10, and then he turned around
and set down a-straddle of the trunk.
Tho wolves were all around underneath
where he sat, and some had followed him
part way up on the leaning tree, but they
had to come along 1t one at time, and
the foremost one would jump off every
time before he got half way up, SO they
didn't get very near him.
The first thing Bongthorn did was to
take of his snowshoes and hang 'em up
safe among the branches. While he was
doing this he had the misfortune to drop
BIS gun, that he had kept with him so far.
Tho moment it struck the snow, bang 1T
went It's charge Of slugs taking one VOLTS
fore legs clean off. AT the flash and noise
Of tho report all the other wolves fell back
q moment from where the wounded ono
was yelping in the snow. Then they flew
at him, tore him to pieces in no time and
ate him up In short order. After fighting
over tho bones awhile they turned again
to Bongthorn, jumping up toward him
from beneath where he sat and coming
ono by ono part way up the leaning trunk
toward him. All the time they kept up
swapping of teeth that told him what
would happen IL he fell among them.
This was in tho month of March, when
it's mighty cold in Newfoundland, and
Bongthorn knew that the way things
were going it was one Of two things with
him-to freeze In the tree or to be torn to
pieces by the wolves below. There was
his gun sticking in the snow. If ho could
only get that into his hands again, he
might fight off tho wolves. His Ratchet
was In his belt, and he climbed farther up
the trunk and cut long, slim branch.
This he trimmed smooth leaving fork
at tho lower end, and, using it as Crap
ping hook, tried to pick up the gun. But
twas no use. AS soon as he pushed the
snapped for it and nearly tore it out of his
hands. If he could get them away from
the spot, or Mt least draw their attention
to something clse no might stand a
chance to get his gun. There was only
ono way no could think of to bring this
about. It was desperate risk to let the
Ratchet go, but he took as good aim as he
could at q big wolf, let it drive, and as
f1,,,
in the back. There it stuck Gst while
the wolf ran off yclping and the others
after him. They caught up with him aft
er ho had run little way, and, while they
were serving him as they had served the
other, Bongthorn tried again to hook his
gun up, but he couldn't make his grapple
work. for the gun dropped back as often as
no lifted it from tho snow. Time was pre-
cious, for he knew that as soon as the
wolves got their companion eaten up they
would DO back under the tree. For the
moment they were all fighting in a heap
around tho wounded one, 80 steps away,
tearing at it and each other and paying no
attention to him.
Twas now or never, and tho boldest
course was the best. Down he dropped
from tho trec into tho snow, grabbed his
gun, wallowcd through tho snow to tho
foot of the leaning tree trunk, and back
up it he climbed as fast as his legs and
arms would carry him.
1t was n close shave for the hunter, for
the wolves were at tho foot of the tree be-
fore he got up to the forks, but miss
is as good as n mile in such a case.
Then, when he got his gun to work among
the wolves, his turn at the fun began. He
shot seven of them before the others went
away and left him. The wolves that were
not left lying dead on the snow scattered
all of n sudden, each making off in diff
ferent direction, and it wasn't two min
utes before not one of them was to be seen
or heard about the place.
Bongthorn came down from the tree
and travelled all night for home. He
didn't stop till he got to the settlement.
Then he came back with some companions
ana brought in his caribou and wolfskins.
Ha showed me the marks of wolves teeth
OIL the gunstock where the wolves had
seized it as it fell f1om the tree. 1t was
the only time In all his life that the wolves
attacked him, but that once was enough
for Q lifetime New York Sun.