Canadian Woodsman Eaten By Wolves

The pine woods of Canada, where the hardy lumberman spend half their lives in solitude wrestling with the mighty forces of nature, now and then furnish a tale of tragedy startling in its unusual features.

Recently when the lakes were first covered with smooth ice two young fellows employed on the shore of Deer lake secured two pairs of skates which chanced to be in the place and set out at night to visit another band of men about nine miles away. With the exception of a little portage of about half a mile between two lakes, the whole journey was by ice and was not very formidable, undertaking to the two sturdy logmakers.

Just as they were breaking through the thin ice at the lakeside they heard a whining behind them and then the low howl which told them that their track had been discovered and that they would certainly be followed. But by the time the wolves reached the water side, there they caught their first sight of the men they were tracking, the two shanty men had reached the firm ice and were skating in earnest. 

Fortunately for them there were a few hundred yards of thin ice to he crossed which almost but not quite held up the wolves and by its sharp edges wounded and hindered them greatly. Otherwise they would have caught up with the men and probably have overpowered them before they had gone a half a mile. 

As it was they had almost overtaken them before they had covered the first half of their four mile race. Neither of the men was hunter, and this was their first experience with wolves, but by mutual agreement the adopted the very best tactics possible and when their pursuers came too near to them wheeled sharply to one side. As the smooth ice afforded no grip to their claws the wolves could not turn or stop suddenly, but generally shot forward and made several stumbles and sometimes somersaults before getting on to the fresh tack. 

In this manner the skaters avoided the brutes for some time and would probably have reached their destination but for an unfortunate suggestion of the younger man that they would be more likely to tire out the wolves if they separated. In accordance with this plan they wheeled in different directions at the end of an island they were approaching. 

As the elder man reached the other end of this wooded island he saw before him the sparks which issued from the huge chimney of the shanty he was looking for. Putting on all of his remaining strength, he spurted on to where the cook's path led from the shanty to the water hole. There the two big brawny timber wolves which had elected to follow him turned tail and with a parting yelp turned in their tracks. 

By some curious accident the poor fellow stumbled as he was approaching the low door of the shanty and fell, breaking his right leg just below the knew. The pain and the previous exertion were too much for his overstrained nerves, and it was upward of an hour before the shanty men could recover him from the swoon into which he fell as he was carried inside. 

When consciousness returned, his first question was for his companion, whom he had last seen as he skated around the little island in the lake. As soon as the men could be made to understand the situation a dozen of them started out to see what had befallen the other traveler. 

Within 200 yards of their winter home they found the blood stained spot where the unfortunate young fellow had been attacked in front by the two brutes which had chased his friend. In the lightly falling snow could be read the whole story of his destruction. His boots and skates and a few fragments of clothing were all the tangible signs of the tragedy left by the wolves.