“Another animal that we sometimes find pretty plenty in these woods, is the big grey wolf; they are savage fellows, and dangerous to meet when angry. On getting up early one winter morning, I noticed in the back part of my garden, what I thought to be a wolf-track. I got my gun, called for my dog, and started on the hunt. I found the fellow in his den among the mountains. I kindled a fire and smoked him out. I then chased him for about two miles, when he came to bay. He was a big fellow, and my dogs were afraid to clinch in; dogs hate a wolf worse than any other animal. I found I had a fair chance, so I fired at the creature, but my gun missed fire. The wolf then attacked me, and in striking him with my gun, I broke it all to pieces. I was in a bad fix, I tell you, but I immediately threw myself on my back with my snow-shoes above me, when the wolf jumped right on to my body, and probably would have killed me had it not been for my dog Buck, who worried the wolf so boldly that the devil left me to fight the dog. While they were fighting with all their might, I jumped up, took the barrel of my gun and settled it right into the brain of the savage animal. That was the largest wolf ever killed in this wilderness.
“One of the hardest fights I ever had in these woods, was with a black bear. I was coming from a winter hunt: the snow was very deep, and I had on my snow-shoes. It so happened, as I was coming down a certain mountain, the snow suddenly gave way under me, and I fell into the hole, or winter-quarters of one of the blackest and largest bears I ever saw. The fellow was just about as much frightened as I was, and he scampered out of the den in a great hurry. I was very tired, and had only one dog with me at the time, but I put after him. I had three smart battles with him, and in one of them he struck my hand with such force, as to send my gun at least twenty or thirty feet from where we stood. I finally managed to kill the rascal, however; but not until he had almost destroyed the life of my dog. That was a noble dog, but in that battle the poor fellow received his death-wound. He couldn’t walk at the time; and though I was nine miles from home, I took him up in my arms and brought him; but with all my nursing, I could not get him up again, for he died at the end of a few weeks. That dog was one of the best friends I ever had.