"
"Nurse, I should he so afraid; I am sure I should cry if I heard the
wicked wolves howling in the dark woods by night. Did you ever know any
one who was eaten by a wolf?"
"No, my lady; the Canadian wolf is a great coward. I have heard the
hunters say that they never attack any one unless there is a great
flock together and the man is alone and unarmed. My uncle used to go
out a great deal hunting, sometimes by torchlight, and sometimes on
the lake, in a canoe with the Indians; and he shot and trapped a great
many wolves and foxes and racoons. He has a great many heads of wild
animals nailed up on the stoup in front of his log-house."
"Please tell me what a stoup is, nurse?"
"A verandah, my lady, is the same thing, only the old Dutch settlers
gave it the name of a stoup, and the stoup is heavier and broader,
and not quite so nicely made as a verandah. One day my uncle was crossing
the lake on the ice; it was a cold winter afternoon, he was in a hurry
to take some food to his brothers, who were drawing pine-logs in the
bush. He had, besides a bag of meal and flour, a new axe on his shoulder.
He heard steps as of a dog trotting after him; he turned his head,
and there he saw, close at his heels, a big, hungry-looking gray wolf;
he stopped and faced about, and the big beast stopped and showed his
white sharp teeth.
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