Legends of New England (1831) : a facsimile reproduction / by John Greenleaf Whittier ; with an introduction by John B. Pickard [electronic text]

NIGHT AMONG THE WOLVES.

———"The gaunt wolf,Scenting the place of slaughter with his longAnd most offensive howl, did ask for blood!"

THE wolf—the gaunt and ferocious wolf! How many tales of wild horror are associated with its name! Tales of the deserted battle-field —where the wolf and the vulture feast together—a horrible and obscene banquet, realizing the fearful description of the Seige of Corinth, when—

———"On the edge of a gulfThere sat a raven flapping a wolf,"

amidst the cold and stiffening corses of the fallen;—or of the wild Scandinavian forests, where the peasant sinks down, exhausted amidst the drifts of winter, and the wild wolf-howl sounds fearfully in his deafening ear, and lean forms and evil eyes gather closer and closer around him, as if impatient for the death of the doomed victim.

The early settlers of New-England were, not unfrequently, greatly incommoded by the numbers and ferocity of the wolves which prowled around their rude

settlements. The hunter easily overpowered them, and with one discharge of his musket, scattered them from about his dwelling. They fled, even from the timid child, in the broad glare of day—but in the thick and solitary night, far away from the dwellings of men, they were terrible, from their fiendish and ferocious appetite for blood.

I have heard a fearful story of the wolf, from the lips of some of the old settlers of Vermont. Perhaps it may be best told in the language of one of the witnesses of the scene.

"'Twas a night of January, in the year 17—. We had been to a fine quilting frolic, about two miles from our little settlement of four or five log-houses. 'Twas rather late—about 12 o'clock, I should guess—when the party broke up. There was no moon—and a dull, grey shadow or haze hung all around the horizon, while overhead a few pale and sickly looking stars gave us their dull light as if they shone through a dingy curtain. There were six of us in company—Harry Mason and myself and four as pretty girls as ever grew up this side of the Green Mountains. There were my two sisters and Harry's sister and his sweetheart, the daughter of our next door neighbor. She was a right down handsome girl—that Caroline Allen. I never saw her equal, 'though I am no

stranger to pretty faces. She was so pleasant and kind of heart—so gentle and sweet-spoken, and so intelligent besides, that every body loved her. She had an eye as blue as the hill-violet, and her lips were like a red rose-leaf in June. No wonder that Harry Mason loved her—boy though he was—for we had neither of us seen our seventeenth summer.

"Our path lay through a thick forest of oak, with here and there a tall pine raising its dark, full shadow against the sky, with an outline rendered indistinct by the thick darkness. The snow was deep—deeper a great deal than it ever falls of late years—but the surface was frozen strongly enough to bear our weight, and we hurried on over the white pathway with rapid steps. We had not proceeded far, before a low, long howl came to our ears. We all knew it in a moment: and I could feel a shudder thrilling the arms that were folded close to my own, as a sudden cry burst from the lips of all of us—"The wolves—the wolves!"

"Did you ever see a wild wolf—not one of your caged, broken down show-animals, which are exhibited for sixpence a sight—children half price—but a fierce, half-starved ranger of the wintry forest—howling and hurrying over the barren snow, and actually mad with hunger? There is no one of God's creatures which has such a frightful, fiendish look, as this

animal. It has the form as well as the spirit of a demon.

"Another, and another howl—and then we could hear distinctly the quick patter of feet behind us. We all turned right about, and looked in the direction of the sound.

"The devils are after us," said Mason, pointing to a line of dark, gliding bodies. And so in fact they were—a whole troop of them—howling like so many Indians in a Powwaw. We had no weapons of any kind; and we knew enough of the nature of the vile creatures who followed us to feel that it would be useless for us to contend without them. There was not a moment to lose—the savage beasts were close upon us. To attempt flight would have been a hopeless affair. There was but one chance of escape, and we instantly seized upon it.

"To the tree—let us climb this tree!" I cried, springing forward towards a low-boughed and gnarled oak, which I saw at a glance might be easily climbed into.

"Harry Mason sprang lightly into the tree, and aided in placing the terrified girls in a place of comparative security among the thick boughs. I was the last on the ground, and the whole troop were yelling at my heels before I reached the rest of the company.

There was one moment of hard breathing and wild exclamation among us, and then a feeling of calm thankfulness for our escape. The night was cold—and we soon began to shiver and shake, like so many sailors on the top-mast of an Iceland whaler. But there were no murmurs—no complaining among us—for we could distinctly see the gaunt, attenuated bodies of the wolves beneath us, and every now and then we could see great, glowing eyes, staring up into the tree where we were seated. And then their yells—they were loud and long and devilish!

"I know not how long we had remained in this situation, for we had no means of ascertaining the time—when I heard a limb of the tree cracking, as if breaking down beneath the weight of some of us; and a moment after a shriek went through my ears like the piercing of a knife. A light form went plunging down through the naked branches, and fell with a dull and heavy sound upon the stiff snow.

"Oh God! I am gone!"

"It was the voice of Caroline Allen. The poor girl never spoke again! There was a horrible dizziness and confusion in my brain, and I spoke not—and I stirred not—for the whole was at that time like an ugly, unreal dream. I only remember that there were cries and shudderings around me—perhaps I

joined with them—and that there were smothered groans and dreadful howls underneath. It was all over in a moment. Poor Caroline! She was literally eaten alive. The wolves had a frightful feast, and they became raving mad with the taste of blood.

"When I came fully to myself—when the horrible dream went off— and it lasted but a moment—I struggled to shake off the arms of my sisters, which were clinging around me, and could I have cleared myself I should have jumped down among the raging animals. But when a second thought came over me, I knew that any attempt at rescue would be useless. As for poor Mason, he was wild with horror. He had tried to follow Caroline when she fell—but he could not shake off the grasp of his terrified sister. His youth, and weak constitution and frame, were unable to withstand the dreadful trial; and he stood close by my side, with his hands firmly clenched and his teeth set closely, gazing down upon the dark, wrangling creatures below, with the fixed stare of a maniac. It was indeed a terrible scene. Around us was the thick, cold night—and below, the ravenous wild beasts were lapping their bloody jaws, and howling for another victim.

"The morning broke at last; and our frightful enemies fled at the first advance of day-light, like so

many cowardly murderers. We waited until the sun had risen before we ventured to crawl down from our resting-place. We were chilled through—every limb was numb with cold and terror—and poor Mason was delirious, and raved wildly about the dreadful things he had witnessed. There were bloody stains all around the tree; and two or three long locks of dark hair were trampled into the snow.

"We had gone but a little distance when we were met by our friends from the settlement, who had become alarmed at our absence. They were shocked at our wild and frightful appearance; and my brothers have oftentimes told me that at first view we all seemed like so many crazed and brain-stricken creatures. They assisted us to reach our homes; but Harry Mason never recovered fully from the dreadful trial. He neglected his business, his studies and his friends, and would sit alone for hours together, ever and anon muttering to himself about that horrible night. He fell to drinking soon after, and died, a miserable drunkard, before age had whitened a hair of his head.

"For my own part I confess I have never entirely overcome the terrors of the melancholy circumstance which I have endeavored to describe. The thought of it has haunted me like my own shadow. And even

now, the whole scene comes at times freshly before me in my dreams, and I start up with something of the same feeling of terror, as when, more than half a century ago, I passed A NIGHT AMONG THE WOLVES."

Notes

• Perhaps the foregoing may be deemed improbable. It is however an oral tradition, which is as well authenticated as anything of the kind may well be. It is one of a series of strange legends of encounters with the wild beasts of a new country which have descended to us from our hardy forefathers, and which are still preserved in the memories of their children.