The evening after we passed the Irtish, a severe bouran arose. As the
night advanced the wind increased. The road was filled and apparently
obliterated. The yemshicks found it difficult to keep the track, and
frequently descended to look for it. Each interval of search was a
little longer than the preceding one, so that we passed considerable
time in impatient waiting. About midnight we reached a station, where
we were urged to rest until morning, the people declaring it unsafe to
proceed. A slight lull in the storm decided us and the yemshicks to go
forward, but as we set out from the station it seemed like driving
into the spray at the foot of Niagara. Midway between the station, we
wandered from the route and appeared hopelessly lost, with the
prospect of waiting until morning.
Just before nightfall, we saw three wolves on the steppe, pointing
their sharp noses in our direction, and apparently estimating how many
dinners our horses would make. Whether they took the mammoth into
account I cannot say, but presume he was not considered. Wolves are
numerous in all Siberia, and are not admired by the biped inhabitants.
When our road seemed utterly lost, and our chances good for a bivouac
in the steppe, we heard a dismal howl in a momentary lull of the wind.
“VOLK,” (wolf,) said the yemshick, who was clearing away the snow near
the sleigh.
Again we heard the sound, and saw the horses lift their ears uneasily.
An instant later the fury of the wind returned. The snow whirled in
dense clouds, and the roaring of the tempest drowned all other sounds.
Had there been fifty howling wolves, within a hundred yards of us, we
could have known nothing until they burst upon us through the curtain
of drifting snow.
It was a time of suspense. I prepared to throw off my outer garments
in case we were attacked, and roused the doctor, who had been some
time asleep. At the cry of “wolf,” he was very soon awake, though he
did not lose that calm serenity that always distinguished him. The
yemshicks continued their search for the road, one of them keeping
near the sleigh and the other walking in circles in the vicinity. Our
position was not enviable.
[Illustration: LOST IN A SNOW STORM.]
To be served up _au natural_ to the lupine race was never my ambition,
and I would have given a small sum, in cash or approved paper, for a
sudden transportation to the Astor House, but with my weight and
substance, all the more desirable to the wolves, a change of base was
not practicable. Our only fire-arms were a shot-gun and a pistol, the
latter unserviceable, and packed in the doctor’s valise. Of course the
wolves would first eat the horses, and reserve us for dessert. We
should have felt, during the preliminaries, much like those unhappy
persons, in the French revolution, who were last in a batch of victims
to the guillotine.
After long delay the road was discovered, and as the wolves did not
come we proceeded. We listened anxiously for the renewal of their
howling, but our ears did not catch the unwelcome sound. The doctor
exhibited no alarm. As he was an old traveler, I concluded to follow
his example, and go to sleep.
In ordinary seasons wolves are not dangerous to men, though they
commit more or less havoc among live stock. Sheep and pigs are their
favorite prey, as they are easily captured, and do not resist. Horses
and cattle are overpowered by wolves acting in packs; the hungry
brutes displaying considerable strategy. A gentleman told me he once
watched a dozen wolves attacking a powerful bull. Some worried him in
front and secured his attention while others attempted to cut his
ham-strings. The effort was repeated several times, the wolves
relieving each other in exposed positions. At length the bull was
crippled and the first part of the struggle gained. The wolves began
to lick their chops in anticipation of a meal, and continued to worry
their expected prey up to the pitch of exhaustion. The gentleman shot
two of them and drove the others into the forest. He could do no more
than put the bull out of his misery. On departing he looked back and
saw the wolves returning to their now ready feast.
The best parts of Russia for wolf-hunting are in the western
governments, where there is less game and more population than in
Siberia. It is in these regions that travelers are sometimes pursued
by wolves, but such incidents are not frequent. It is only in the
severest winters, when driven to desperation by hunger, that the
wolves dare to attack men. The horses are the real objects of their
pursuit, but when once a party is overtaken the wolves make no nice
distinctions, and horses and men are alike devoured. Apropos of
hunting I heard a story of a thrilling character.
“It had been,” said the gentleman who narrated the incident, “a severe
winter in Vitebsk and Vilna. I had spent several weeks at the country
residence of a friend in Vitebsk, and we heard, during the latter part
of my stay, rumors of the unusual ferocity of the wolves.
“One day Kanchin, my host, proposed a wolf-hunt. ‘We shall have capital
sport,’ said he, ‘for the winter has made the wolves hungry, and they
will be on the alert when they hear our decoy.’
“We prepared a sledge, one of the common kind, made of stout withes,
woven like basket-work, and firmly fastened to the frame and runners.
It was wide enough for both of us and the same height all around so
that we could shoot in any direction except straight forward. We took
a few furs to keep us warm, and each had a short gun of large bore,
capable of carrying a heavy load of buck-shot. Rifles are not
desirable weapons where one cannot take accurate aim. As a precaution
we stowed two extra guns in the bottom of the sledge.
“The driver, Ivan, on learning the business before him, was evidently
reluctant to go, but as a Russian servant has no choice beyond obeying
his master, the man offered no objection. Three spirited horses were
attached, and I heard Kanchin order that every part of the harness
should be in the best condition.
“We had a pig confined in a strong cage of ropes and withes, that he
might last longer than if dragged by the legs. A rope ten feet long
was attached to the cage and ready to be tied to the sledge.
“We kept the pig in furs at the bottom of the sledge, and drove
silently into the forest. The last order given by Kanchin was to open
the gates of the courtyard and hang a bright lantern in front. I asked
the reason of this, and he replied with a smile: ‘If we should be
going at full speed on our return, I don’t wish to stop till we reach
the middle of the yard.’
“As by mutual consent neither uttered a word as we drove along. We
carried no bells, and there was no creaking of any part of the sledge.
Ivan did not speak but held his reins taut and allowed the horses to
take their own pace. In his secure and warm covering the pig was
evidently asleep. The moon and stars were perfectly unclouded, and
there was no motion of anything in the forest. The road was excellent,
but we did not meet or pass a single traveler. I do not believe I ever
_felt_ silence more forcibly than then.
“The forest in that region is not dense, and on either side of the road
there is a space of a hundred yards or more entirely open. The snow
lay crisp and sparkling, and as the country was but slightly
undulating we could frequently see long distances. The apparent
movement of the trees as we drove past them caused me to fancy the
woods rilled with animate forms to whom the breeze gave voices that
mocked us.
“About eight versts from the house we reached a cross road that led
deeper into the forest. ‘_Naprava,_’ in a low voice from my companion
turned us to the right into the road. Eight or ten versts further
Kanchin, in the same low tone, commanded ‘_Stoi._’ Without a word Ivan
drew harder upon his reins, and we came to a halt. At a gesture from
my friend the team was turned about.
“Kanchin stepped carefully from the sledge and asked me to hand him the
rope attached to the cage. He tied this to the rear cross-bar, and
removing his cloak told me to do the same. Getting our guns,
ammunition, and ourselves in readiness, and taking our seats with our
backs toward the driver, we threw out the pig and his cage and ordered
Ivan to proceed.
“The first cry from the pig awoke an answering howl in a dozen
directions. The horses sprang as if struck with a heavy hand, and I
felt my blood chill at the dismal sound. The driver with great
difficulty kept his team from breaking into a gallop. Five minutes
later, a wolf came galloping from the forest on the left side where I
sat.
“‘Don’t fire till he is quite near,’ said Kanchin, ‘we shall have no
occasion to make long shots.’
“The wolf was distinctly visible on the clean snow, and I allowed him
to approach within twenty yards. I fired, and he fell. As I turned to
re-load Kanchin raised his gun to shoot a wolf approaching the right
of the sledge. His shot was successful, the wolf falling dead upon the
snow.
“I re-loaded very quickly, and when I looked up there were three wolves
running toward me, while as many more were visible on Kanchin’s side.
My companion raised his eyes when his gun was ready and gave a start
that thrilled me with horror. Ivan was immovable in his place, and
holding with all his might upon the reins.
“‘_Poshol!_’ shouted Kanchin.
“The howling grew more terrific. Whatever way we looked we could see
the wolves emerging from the forest;
“‘With their long gallop, which can tire,
The hounds’ deep hate, the hunter’s fire.’
“Not only behind and on either side but away to the front, I could see
their dark forms. We fired and loaded and fired again, every shot
telling but not availing to stop the pursuit.
“The driver did not need Kanchin’s shout of ‘_poshol_!’ and the horses
exerted every nerve without being urged. But with all our speed we
could not outstrip the wolves that grew every moment more numerous. If
we could only keep up our pace we might escape, but should a horse
stumble, the harness give way, or the sledge overturn, we were
hopelessly lost. We threw away our furs and cloaks keeping only our
arms and ammunition. The wolves hardly paused over these things but
steadily adhered to the pursuit.
“Suddenly I thought of a new danger that menaced us. I grasped
Kanchin’s arm and asked how we could turn the corner into the main
road. Should we attempt it at full speed the sledge would be
overturned. If we slackened our pace the wolves would be upon us.
“I felt my friend trembling in my grasp but his voice was firm.
“‘When I say the word,’ he replied, giving me his hunting knife, ‘lean
over and cut the rope of the decoy. That will detain them a short
time. Soon as you have done so lie down on the left side of the sledge
and cling to the cords across the bottom.’
“Then turning to Ivan he ordered him to slacken speed a little, but
only a little, at the corner, and keep the horses from running to
either side as he turned. This done Kanchin clung to the left side of
the sledge prepared to step upon its fender and counteract, if
possible, our centrifugal force.
“We approached the main road, and just as I discovered the open space
at the crossing Kanchin shouted,—
“‘Strike!’
“I whipped off the rope in an instant and we left our decoy behind us.
The wolves stopped, gathered densely about the prize, and began
quarreling over it. Only a few remained to tear the cage asunder. The
rest, after a brief halt, continued the pursuit, but the little time
they lost was of precious value to us.
“We approached the dreaded turning. Kanchin placed his feet upon the
fender and fastened his hands into the net-work of the sledge. I lay
down in the place assigned me, and never did drowning man cling to a
rope more firmly than I clung to the bottom of our vehicle. As we
swept around the corner the sledge was whirled in air, turned upon its
side and only saved from complete oversetting by the positions of
Kanchin and myself.
“Just as the sledge righted, and ran upon both runners, I heard a
piercing cry. Ivan, occupied with his horses, was not able to cling
like ourselves; he fell from his seat, and hardly struck the snow
before the wolves were upon him. That one shriek that filled my ears
was all he could utter. The reins were trailing, but fortunately
where they were not likely to be entangled. The horses needed no
driver; all the whips in the world could not increase their speed. Two
of our guns wore lost as we turned from the by-road, but the two that
lay under me in the sledge were providentially saved. We fired as fast
as possible into the dark mass that filled the road not twenty yards
behind us. Every shot told but the pursuit did not lag. To-day I
shudder as I think of that surging mass of gray forms with eyes
glistening like fireballs, and the serrated jaws that opened as if
certain of a feast.
[Illustration: FATAL RESULT.]
“A stern chase is proverbially a long one. If no accident happened to
sledge or horses we felt certain that the wolves which followed could
not overtake us.
“As we approached home our horses gave signs of lagging, and the
pursuing wolves came nearer. One huge beast sprang at the sledge and
actually fastened his fore paws upon it. I struck him over the head
with my gun and he released his hold. A moment later I heard the
barking of our dogs at the house, and as the gleam of the lantern
caught my eye I fell unconscious to the bottom of the sledge. I woke
an hour later and saw Kanchin pacing the floor in silence. Repeatedly
I spoke to him but he answered only in monosyllables.
“The next day, a party of peasants went to look for the remains of poor
Ivan. A few shreds of clothing, and the cross he wore about his neck,
were all the vestiges that could be found. For three weeks I lay ill
with a fever and returned to St. Petersburg immediately on my
recovery. Kanchin has lived in seclusion ever since, and both of us
were gray-haired within six months.”
Before the construction of the railway between Moscow and Nijne
Novgorod there were forest guards at regular intervals to protect the
road from bears and wolves. The men lived in huts placed upon
scaffoldings fifteen or twenty feet high. This arrangement served a
double purpose; the guards could see farther than on the ground and
they were safe from nocturnal attacks of their four-footed enemies.
One evening at a dinner party, I heard several anecdotes about wolves,
of which I preserve two.
“I was once,” said a gentleman, “pursued by ten or twelve wolves. One
horse fell and we had just time to cut the traces of the other,
overturn our sleigh and get under as in a cage, before the wolves
overtook us. We thought the free horse would run to the village and
the people would come to rescue us. What was our surprise to see him
charge upon the wolves, kill two with his hoofs and drive away the
rest. When the other horse recovered we harnessed our team and drove
home.”
“And I,” said another, “was once attacked when on foot. I wore a new
pelisse of sheep-skin and a pair of reindeer-skin boots. Wolves are
fond of deer and sheep, and they eat skin and all when they have a
chance. The brutes stripped off my pelisse and boots without harming
my skin. Just as I was preparing to give them my woolen trousers, some
peasants came to my relief.” Although I feared my auditors would be
incredulous, I told the story of David Crockett when treed by a
hundred or more prairie wolves. “I shot away all my ammunition, and
threw away my gun and knife among them, but it was no use. Finally, I
thought I would try the effect of music and began to sing ‘Old
Hundred.’ Before I finished the first verse every wolf put his fore
paws to his ears and galloped off.”
My story did not produce the same results upon my audience, but almost
as marked a one, for all appreciated its humor, and before I had
fairly finished a burst of laughter resounded through the room, and it
was unanimously voted that Americans could excel in all things, not
excepting Wolf Stories.
[Illustration: TAIL PIECE]