“A herd of deer,” says an eye-witness, “thus surrounded by the wolves, who were too great cowards to rush in upon their prey, would be startled every now and then by the long-drawn unearthly howl of the hungry brutes; sometimes a frightened deer, horror-stricken at the abominable chant, dashes madly away from the herd,--away all, or a portion, of the wolfish fraternity go after it. In many cases the scene may be briefly summed up with the old three-volume _denouement_ of--a rush, a shriek, a crunching of bones, and snarling of beasts of prey, and all is over! for the wonderful powers of swallow and horrid voracity of an Arctic wolf must be seen to be understood; no writer would peril his reputation for veracity by repeating what has been seen on that head. But sometimes the frightened deer gains the open country, and goes wonderful distances dogged by the persevering wolf, who assuredly has it, unless another herd is met which admits the hunted deer into its ranks. “Occasionally, whilst a herd of deer are grazing, one of them may happen to hit upon a spot where the food is plentiful; it naturally lingers there, while the herd is moving slowly on against the wind. The wolves immediately mark the straggler, and stealthily crawl on, their object being to cut him off from the herd; that effected, there is a howl and a rush, which if the deer does not evade by extraordinary exertions, his fate is instantly sealed.” These scenes are enacted throughout the long Arctic winter. When sight is rendered useless, scent comes to the aid of the rapacious destroyer; and we can well believe that many an explorer, in the December darkness of the frozen wastes, has often wished his olfactory nerves were as sensitively organized as those of the wolf. For although he can then hear the reindeer, it is impossible to see them, except when they hurry across the dark but snowy landscape; and many a bad shot has been made by a hungry seaman at a large pair of melancholy eyes which peered out of the enveloping mist, because he could not tell, for the life of him, whether the animal was distant two or twenty yards. In the dreadful winter of 1852–53, the deer approached close to the exploring-ship _Investigator_, having quitted the land and traversed the belt of ice. It is difficult to say whether this was done with a view of seeking the warmth which instinct, if not scent, told them radiated from the vessels,--the vessels, compared with the temperature everywhere prevailing (namely, 9·5° below freezing-point), being complete volcanoes of heat; or whether it was for security against their wolfish enemies. Probably, it was for the first-named reason; inasmuch as it is recorded that the foxes of Leopold Harbour, in 1848, soon became aware of the warmer atmosphere produced by the presence of Sir James Ross’s squadron, and sagaciously burrowed and bred in the embankments thrown up around the ships.