THE WOLF TRAIL

BY

ROGER S. POCOCK

AUTHOR OF "CURLY," ETC.



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK :: :: MCMXXIII




COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA




ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author is deeply indebted to Mr. J. S. M. Wardfor permission to reproduce in thisnovel a passage from his work, A Subalternin Spirit Land, published byMessrs. William Rider & Son, Ltd.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER

I. On London River

II. The Voyage of the "Beaver"

III. In British Oregon

IV. Kootenay

V. The Whole Armor

VI. The Ghost Trail

VII. The Holy Lodge

VIII. Rising Wolf

IX. The Striking of the Camp

X. The Translation




THE WOLF TRAIL



CHAPTER I

ON LONDON RIVER


I

"To make a dogsnose," the publican explained,"you spices the ale, so. You laces it witha dash of rum, thus, then you proceeds topour it into this yere metal cone, this way"—he crossedto the fireplace—"and shoves it in among the coals tomull."

"A great comfort is dogsnose," added Mr. Fright,"especially of a Sunday after church. You clears thevimmen off to church, and then you has the dogsnose."

Presently he took the cone from behind the barsof the grate, and filled the glasses with mulled beer,distributing the same to his guests.

With rolled-up shirt sleeves exposing brawny arms,a portly waistcoat, leather breeches, and top boots, thispublican might well have posed for a portrait of JohnBull, and yet his tavern, "The Fox under the Hill,"had other associations, accounting for the landlord'sartful sideways grin and a certain glint of humorousfoxiness. Moreover, a lifelong devotion to rum hadmade him more ruddy than sunburned, his noseinclined to blossom, his eyes to water, and his handsto tremble. "A short life, and a merry one!" soMr. Fright pledged the company. His guests appearedto be pleased with the sentiment, excepting onlyhis brother, Mr. James Fright, the bargee, whocrouched drunk in his window corner. Brief lifewas his portion also, but a diet of gin, instead ofmaking ruddy the face of man, turns his complexion blue.The stuff is called blue ruin.

The bargee's only son, Bill, aged at that time eighteen,sat in the ingle. He had something of his father'sshort pugnacious nose, a

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