It is not only traps that the wolverine is fatal to. If he finds the house of a backwoodsman empty, he will get into it through a hole which he makes in the wall—never through the door, even if this should be open—and then takes away whatever there may be inside. It does not matter what the things are. Guns, kettles, knives, axes, blankets, boxes, or cans of tinned meat, it is all the same to the wolverine, he carries them all off or pushes them along with his paws, to hide them in different places—for he is like the magpie or the bizcacha in this; whatever he sees seems to have an attraction for him. Thus it has sometimes happened that a hunter and his family, having been so imprudent as to leave their “lodge” unguarded for a day or two—or perhaps having to go and there being no one to leave there—have come back and found it quite empty, only the bare walls with nothing inside them. The misfortune, however, is not so great as it seems, for the tracks of the wolverine, or sometimes the pair of them, can be followed up, and, little by little, everything is found hidden about in the bushes. It is not often, however, that the animal itself is discovered. Indeed the wolverine’s presence is much more often felt than seen. One ill deed after another comes to light, and is surely traced to his door, but their author remains, for long periods, invisible. With a cunning that seems human, he devises, plans, and executes, and with equal astuteness he chooses his time. When he does happen to meet a man, how does he act? He sits up on his haunches, like a dog begging, and holding one of his big, flat fore paws just above his eyes, so as to shade them from the light, looks long and earnestly at the intruder—for as such he considers him. This he will do, sometimes, three or four times, before deciding that he had better go, unless, indeed, he sees any special reason for alarm, in which case he quickly disappears. There is no other known animal, as far as I am aware, that has this odd human-like habit. No wonder the American backwoodsman, besides looking upon the wolverine (or carcajou as he calls him) as a very malignant animal, thinks him a little uncanny as well. CHAPTER XXVI MAN-EATING ANIMALS—THE TIGER’S SLAVE—A SAVAGE LION-HUNT—WOLF-REARED CHILDREN—MEN AND APES—A SHAM GORILLA—UNPROHIBITED MURDER—A MONKEY’S MALISON.