{"id":65,"date":"2021-03-30T15:07:47","date_gmt":"2021-03-30T19:07:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/flintandfeather\/?post_type=chapter&p=65"},"modified":"2022-02-04T08:50:28","modified_gmt":"2022-02-04T13:50:28","slug":"wolverine","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/chapter\/wolverine\/","title":{"raw":"Wolverine","rendered":"Wolverine"},"content":{"raw":"\u201cYes, sir, it\u2019s quite a story, though you won\u2019t believe it\u2019s true,\r\nBut such things happened often when I lived beyond the Soo.\u201d\r\nAnd the trapper tilted back his chair and filled his pipe anew.\r\n\r\n\u201cI ain\u2019t thought of it neither fer this many \u2018n many a day,\r\nAlthough it used to haunt me in the years that\u2019s slid away,\r\nThe years I spent a-trappin\u2019 for the good old Hudson\u2019s Bay.\r\n\r\n\u201cWild? You bet, \u2019twas wild then, an\u2019 few an\u2019 far between\r\nThe squatters\u2019 shacks, for whites was scarce as furs when things is green,\r\nAn\u2019 only reds an\u2019 \u2018Hudson\u2019s\u2019 men was all the folk I seen.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo. Them old Indyans ain\u2019t so bad, not if you treat \u2019em square.\r\nWhy, I lived in amongst \u2019em all the winters I was there,\r\nAn\u2019 I never lost a copper, an\u2019 I never lost a hair.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I\u2019d have lost my life the time that you\u2019ve heard tell about;\r\nI don\u2019t think I\u2019d be settin\u2019 here, but dead beyond a doubt,\r\nIf that there Indyan \u2018Wolverine\u2019 jest hadn\u2019t helped me out.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018Twas freshet time, \u2018way back, as long as sixty-six or eight,\r\nAn\u2019 I was comin\u2019 to the Post that year a kind of late,\r\nFor beaver had been plentiful, and trappin\u2019 had been great.\r\n\r\n\u201cOne day I had been settin\u2019 traps along a bit of wood,\r\nAn\u2019 night was catchin\u2019 up to me jest faster \u2018an it should,\r\nWhen all at once I heard a sound that curdled up my blood.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was the howl of famished wolves\u2014I didn\u2019t stop to think\r\nBut jest lit out across for home as quick as you could wink,\r\nBut when I reached the river\u2019s edge I brought up at the brink.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat mornin\u2019 I had crossed the stream straight on a sheet of ice\r\nAn\u2019 now, God help me! There it was, churned up an\u2019 cracked to dice,\r\nThe flood went boiling past\u2014I stood like one shut in a vice.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo way ahead, no path aback, trapped like a rat ashore,\r\nWith naught but death to follow, and with naught but death afore;\r\nThe howl of hungry wolves aback\u2014ahead, the torrent\u2019s roar.\r\n\r\n\u201cAn\u2019 then\u2014a voice, an Indyan voice, that called out clear and clean,\r\n\u2018Take Indyan\u2019s horse, I run like deer, wolf can\u2019t catch Wolverine.\u2019\r\nI says, \u2018Thank Heaven.\u2019 There stood the chief I\u2019d nicknamed Wolverine.\r\n\r\n\u201cI leapt on that there horse, an\u2019 then jest like a coward fled,\r\nAn\u2019 left that Indyan standin\u2019 there alone, as good as dead,\r\nWith the wolves a-howlin\u2019 at his back, the swollen stream ahead.\r\n\r\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how them Indyans dodge from death the way they do,\r\nYou won\u2019t believe it, sir, but what I\u2019m tellin\u2019 you is true,\r\nBut that there chap was \u2019round next day as sound as me or you.\r\n\r\n\u201cHe came to get his horse, but not a cent he\u2019d take from me.\r\nYes, sir, you\u2019re right, the Indyans now ain\u2019t like they used to be;\r\nWe\u2019ve got \u2019em sharpened up a bit an\u2019 now<\/i> they\u2019ll take a fee.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, sir, you\u2019re wrong, they ain\u2019t no \u2018dogs.\u2019 I\u2019m not through tellin\u2019 yet;\r\nYou\u2019ll take that name right back again, or else jest out you get!\r\nYou\u2019ll take that name right back when you hear all this yarn, I bet.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt happened that same autumn, when some Whites was comin\u2019 in,\r\nI heard the old Red River carts a-kickin\u2019 up a din,\r\nSo I went over to their camp to see an English skin.\r\n\r\n\u201cThey said, \u2018They\u2019d had an awful scare from Injuns,\u2019 an\u2019 they swore\r\nThat savages had come around the very night before\r\nA-brandishing their tomahawks an\u2019 painted up for war.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut when their plucky Englishmen had put a bit of lead\r\nRight through the heart of one of them, an\u2019 rolled him over, dead,\r\nThe other cowards said that they had come on peace instead.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018That they (the Whites) had lost some stores, from off their little pack,\r\nAn\u2019 that the Red they peppered dead had followed up their track,\r\nBecause he\u2019d found the packages an\u2019 came to give them back<\/i>.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018Oh!\u2019 they said, \u2018they were quite sorry, but it wasn\u2019t like as if\r\nThey had killed a decent Whiteman by mistake or in a tiff,\r\nIt was only some old Injun dog that lay there stark an\u2019 stiff.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cI said, \u2018You are the meanest dogs that ever yet I seen,\u2019\r\nThen I rolled the body over as it lay out on the green;\r\nI peered into the face\u2014My God! \u2019twas poor old Wolverine.\u201d","rendered":"

\u201cYes, sir, it\u2019s quite a story, though you won\u2019t believe it\u2019s true,
\nBut such things happened often when I lived beyond the Soo.\u201d
\nAnd the trapper tilted back his chair and filled his pipe anew.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t thought of it neither fer this many \u2018n many a day,
\nAlthough it used to haunt me in the years that\u2019s slid away,
\nThe years I spent a-trappin\u2019 for the good old Hudson\u2019s Bay.<\/p>\n

\u201cWild? You bet, \u2019twas wild then, an\u2019 few an\u2019 far between
\nThe squatters\u2019 shacks, for whites was scarce as furs when things is green,
\nAn\u2019 only reds an\u2019 \u2018Hudson\u2019s\u2019 men was all the folk I seen.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Them old Indyans ain\u2019t so bad, not if you treat \u2019em square.
\nWhy, I lived in amongst \u2019em all the winters I was there,
\nAn\u2019 I never lost a copper, an\u2019 I never lost a hair.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2019d have lost my life the time that you\u2019ve heard tell about;
\nI don\u2019t think I\u2019d be settin\u2019 here, but dead beyond a doubt,
\nIf that there Indyan \u2018Wolverine\u2019 jest hadn\u2019t helped me out.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Twas freshet time, \u2018way back, as long as sixty-six or eight,
\nAn\u2019 I was comin\u2019 to the Post that year a kind of late,
\nFor beaver had been plentiful, and trappin\u2019 had been great.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne day I had been settin\u2019 traps along a bit of wood,
\nAn\u2019 night was catchin\u2019 up to me jest faster \u2018an it should,
\nWhen all at once I heard a sound that curdled up my blood.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was the howl of famished wolves\u2014I didn\u2019t stop to think
\nBut jest lit out across for home as quick as you could wink,
\nBut when I reached the river\u2019s edge I brought up at the brink.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat mornin\u2019 I had crossed the stream straight on a sheet of ice
\nAn\u2019 now, God help me! There it was, churned up an\u2019 cracked to dice,
\nThe flood went boiling past\u2014I stood like one shut in a vice.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo way ahead, no path aback, trapped like a rat ashore,
\nWith naught but death to follow, and with naught but death afore;
\nThe howl of hungry wolves aback\u2014ahead, the torrent\u2019s roar.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn\u2019 then\u2014a voice, an Indyan voice, that called out clear and clean,
\n\u2018Take Indyan\u2019s horse, I run like deer, wolf can\u2019t catch Wolverine.\u2019
\nI says, \u2018Thank Heaven.\u2019 There stood the chief I\u2019d nicknamed Wolverine.<\/p>\n

\u201cI leapt on that there horse, an\u2019 then jest like a coward fled,
\nAn\u2019 left that Indyan standin\u2019 there alone, as good as dead,
\nWith the wolves a-howlin\u2019 at his back, the swollen stream ahead.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know how them Indyans dodge from death the way they do,
\nYou won\u2019t believe it, sir, but what I\u2019m tellin\u2019 you is true,
\nBut that there chap was \u2019round next day as sound as me or you.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe came to get his horse, but not a cent he\u2019d take from me.
\nYes, sir, you\u2019re right, the Indyans now ain\u2019t like they used to be;
\nWe\u2019ve got \u2019em sharpened up a bit an\u2019 now<\/i> they\u2019ll take a fee.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir, you\u2019re wrong, they ain\u2019t no \u2018dogs.\u2019 I\u2019m not through tellin\u2019 yet;
\nYou\u2019ll take that name right back again, or else jest out you get!
\nYou\u2019ll take that name right back when you hear all this yarn, I bet.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt happened that same autumn, when some Whites was comin\u2019 in,
\nI heard the old Red River carts a-kickin\u2019 up a din,
\nSo I went over to their camp to see an English skin.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey said, \u2018They\u2019d had an awful scare from Injuns,\u2019 an\u2019 they swore
\nThat savages had come around the very night before
\nA-brandishing their tomahawks an\u2019 painted up for war.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut when their plucky Englishmen had put a bit of lead
\nRight through the heart of one of them, an\u2019 rolled him over, dead,
\nThe other cowards said that they had come on peace instead.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018That they (the Whites) had lost some stores, from off their little pack,
\nAn\u2019 that the Red they peppered dead had followed up their track,
\nBecause he\u2019d found the packages an\u2019 came to give them back<\/i>.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Oh!\u2019 they said, \u2018they were quite sorry, but it wasn\u2019t like as if
\nThey had killed a decent Whiteman by mistake or in a tiff,
\nIt was only some old Injun dog that lay there stark an\u2019 stiff.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cI said, \u2018You are the meanest dogs that ever yet I seen,\u2019
\nThen I rolled the body over as it lay out on the green;
\nI peered into the face\u2014My God! \u2019twas poor old Wolverine.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":7,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-65","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/65","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/65\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":66,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/65\/revisions\/66"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/65\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=65"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=65"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=65"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=65"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}