“I’ve never seen a live wolverene,” came from Harry. “I saw a dead one once at my father’s store—Jerry Daley brought it down. It was about as long as a wolf, but a good deal heavier, and was black, with a lightish streak running around each side toward the tail. It had a sort of cat head, with the ears laid low, and an awful savage looking mouth.” “Yes, and Jerry Daley was almost killed by the beast, too,” put in Joe. “It ripped up his arm and gave him a fearful scratch on one knee. Jerry put two bullets into it and then cut its throat with his hunting knife.” “I’ve heard a lot of stories about wolverenes,” said Fred. “A good many hunters fight shy of them.” “And the wolverenes fight shy of the hunters,” put in old Runnell. “Can’t blame ’em either.” “Maybe we had better not go after this beast,” put in Teddy. “I don’t want to be chewed up.” “Oh, yes, let us go after him,” came from Bart. “I’m not afraid. Remember, he stole our deer meat.” “Better let that meat go,” went on Teddy. “Oh, I don’t want to eat the meat after a wolverene has chewed on it,” added Bart. “But we ought to teach the beast a lesson.” “Wolverenes are great for stealing hunters’ meat,” said Joel Runnell. “And not only that, they soon learn how to get at rabbits and other animals that have been trapped. I once heard tell of how a hunter went out to look at his traps and he discovered a wolverene watching ’em. He kept out of sight, and pretty soon a rabbit got into one of the traps. As soon as the rabbit was a prisoner, Mr. Wolverene came out of hiding and pulled the rabbit out of the trap, and just then the hunter killed the beast.” The matter was talked over, and it was decided that two of the boys should go with old Runnell after the wolverene. Lots were cast, and the choice fell upon Joe and Bart. “Bart, that ought to suit you,” said Fred. “And it does,” was the quick answer. “It suits me, too,” came from Joe. “Sorry you can’t go, Harry,” he added to his brother. “Well, such is luck,” was the reply. “Perhaps next time I’ll go and you’ll have to stay home.” A hasty lunch was had, and in less than half an hour old Runnell, Bart, and Joe were on the way. The track of the wolverene was plainly to be seen, and they followed it with ease over the rocks where the wind had blown a good deal of the snow away. “Are your guns ready for use?” questioned old Runnell. “It may be that we may fall in with some other kind of game besides the wolverene.” The weapons were in proper condition and both were held in such a fashion that they could do no harm as the party traveled along. They had now to enter the woods, with thick pines on one side and a variety of small hemlocks and scrub bushes on the other. They were going uphill, and walking at every step became more difficult. “Here are the marks very plainly,” said Joe. “The wolverene got tired of carrying the meat and dragged it.” “Make no more noise,” said Joel Runnell. “We may be closer to the beast nor you think.”