The Lee County journal. (Leesburg, Ga.) 1904-19??, 1909-01-29
WHEN THE WOLF
PACK HUNTS.
By II. A. BLHER.
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Have you ever heard wolf-pack?
No? Then you have never lain awake
and wondered what they we're chasing
and If they would be successful. You
might if you should lie nat on your
back in bunk in some northern log
ging camp tonight, listening to the
many noises-noiseS SO strange that
unless you were accustomed to them
sleep would be long in coming.
Little spots and patches of light
coming through cracks in the top or
sides of the great box heater, crowded
full of green wood, dance and flicker
on the roof boards, dying in one place
Ito appear in another. You lie and
listen to the heavy breathing of many
tired men; some of them are snoring
or even talking in their sleep, driv-'
dng horses in dreamland. You hear
the horses in the stables: one is kick
ang, perhaps, but you feel sure he will
do no harm. An owl in nearby
Eree boots and is answered from the
distance. A screw worm is diligently
boring in log near your head. He
has been there every night for so long
that you would really miss him
should he not work.
Then there is a lumberjack who
has been in camp just day; he came
i'm with that dry, brown taste in his
mouth which usually follows visit
to the thirst parlors in town. He is
awake and rolls from his bunk to the
deacon seat, where he sits for mo-
ment, then moves quietly to the water
kegS where you can hear him drink
ing with great noisy gulps, followed
by signing "Ah!"
You begin to feel that sleep will
soon come to you, and you are less
conscious of the noises, when from
just back Of the cook camp, in the
alder thicket, comes that long-drawn
shriek-it can hardly be called a
howl. There is no echo; only still
ness follows. Even the heavy breath
ing of your companions seems to
cease, and you find yourself holding
your breath. In few moments an
heart pounding. You don't wonder
what it is, even If you never have
heard it before; instinctively you
know 1t is the cry of the great gray
timber wolf. He will not hurt you,
would not even should you meet him
face to face on the trail; he would
simply show his teeth and stink off
into the brush. Should he be out Of
your sight he would sit quietly and
let you pass, then noiselessly follow
you, perhaps for miles, now and then
getting ahead SO he might sit and
grin as you pass.
The lone gray wolf who was trot-
ting down the tote road, miles away,
when you climbed into your bunk,
scented a deer that lately crossed.
If the snow were loose and deep it
would be useless to follow. Tonight,
however, the crust is firm enough to
bear him; the wolf swung off at a
dope, covering ground fast. His
chase led him into swamplands,
among thick young spruce and bal
sam, their branches bent far down
with the weight of snow, and large
tamarack trees thrown in a tangled
mass by strong wind after having
been killed by fire during dry
spring.
On top of a snow-covered hum
mock, almost as white as the snow
itself, rabbit squatted; it bounded
away in terror. No time now for
rabbits; this big wolf was after big
game. His progress was slower here
and more difficult. The crust was not
so strong, and continually breaking
Through worried him, and, whining
like dog, he spread wide his toes,
taking advantage of sticks and fallen
trees, his bushy tail jerking from
side to side in an effort to balance
himself. Jumping from one fallen
tree toward another, he landed short,
and disappeared in the snow, craWled
out, shook himself and resumed the
chase. The footing improved as he
'neared the edge of the swamp, and
swiftly passing through thick alders
he was surprised to find himself in
the very dooryard of the logging
camp. What did he care, though?
Stopping quickly he again shifted the
air, then voiced his defiance, to you
and all the others with you so warmly
housed.
Just now you heard that blood
curdling cry go booming out across
the wintry night. And if you could
peep out you might see the wolf
standing motionless, contemplating
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