Occasionally the glutton is killed by a gun placed so as to bear on a bait, to which is attached a string communicating with the trigger. But a trapper assured Lord Milton and his companion, that very often the animal had proved too cunning for him, first approaching the gun and gnawing in two the cord communicating with the trigger, and then securely devouring the bait. In one instance, when all the trapper’s devices to beguile his enemy had been seen through, and clearly foiled, he adopted the plan of placing the gun in a tree, with the muzzle pointing vertically downwards upon the bait. This was suspended from a branch, at such a height that the animal could not secure it without jumping; and, moreover, it was completely screened by the boughs. Now, the wolverine’s curiosity almost equals its voracity. It shows a disposition to investigate everything; an old moccasin flung aside in the bushes, or a knife lost in the snow, must be ferreted out and examined, and any object suspended almost out of reach generally proves irresistible as a temptation. In this instance, however, the caution of the glutton exceeded its curiosity and restrained its hunger; it climbed the tree, cut the fastenings of the gun, which then tumbled to the ground, and, descending, it secured the bait with impunity. Lord Milton’s party were personal sufferers by, and witnesses to, the animal’s cunning. One day, when setting out to visit their traps, they observed the footprints of a very large wolverine which had followed their trail, and La Ronde, their trapper, at once exclaimed, “C’est fini, monsieur; il a cassé toutes nôtres étrappes, vous allez voir;” and so it proved. As they came to each in succession, they found it broken open at the back, and the bait taken; and, where an animal had been caught, it was carried off. Throughout the whole line every one had been demolished; and the tails were discovered of no fewer than ten martens, the bodies of which had apparently been devoured by the hungry and astute wolverine. With one more illustration we must be content, and turn to another branch of our subject, though we do not suppose that our readers will weary of the relation of facts which throw so vivid a light on the intelligence, as distinct from, and superior to, the instinct of animals. And, certainly, the manner in which the glutton foils the ingenious stratagems of the trappers must be ascribed to intelligence rather than to instinct. In the following anecdote we think it is plainly shown that the latter could not have sufficed to guard the animal against the machinations of its persevering foes.