"No, sir, they were very foolish, I believe; but I fear it will always be the case with us trappers. We are like sailors, we do not know what to do with money when we get it; so we throw it away, and the sooner the better, for it is our enemy while we have it. I assure you, sir, that I used to feel quite happy when all my money was gone, and I was setting off to the woods again. It is a hard life, but a life that unfits me for any other; a life which you become very fond of. I don't mind being here with you by way of a change; indeed, as long as there is hunting, it is almost as good as if I were in the woods, but else I think I shall die a trapper." "But, Martin," said Mr Campbell, "how much more wise it would be to put your money by, and after a time purchase a farm and settle down a steady man with property, perhaps married and the father of a family." "Perhaps it might be; but if I do not like it so well as trapping, I don't see why I should do so; it would be changing my life to please others and not myself." "That's very true, Martin," said Alfred, laughing. "Perhaps Martin may change his mind before he is an old man," replied Mrs Campbell. "Dear me! what noise was that?" exclaimed Mrs Campbell, as a melancholy howl was heard without. "Only a rascally wolf, ma'am," said Martin: "we must expect the animals to be about us now that the snow has fallen, and the winter has set in." "A wolf! are they not dangerous, Martin?" inquired Mary Percival. "That depends, miss, how hungry they may be; but they are not very fond of attacking a human being; if we had any sheep outside, I fancy that they would stand a bad chance." The howl was repeated, when one or two of the dogs which had been admitted into the house and were stretched before the fire, roused up and growled. "They hear him, ma'am, and if we were to let them out, would soon be at him. No, no, John, sit still and put down your rifle: we can't afford to hurt wolves; their skins won't fetch a half-dollar, and their flesh is not fit for a dog, let alone a Christian. Let the vermin howl till he's tired; he'll be off to the woods again before daylight." "There is certainly something very melancholy and dreadful to me in that howl," said Emma; "it frightens me." "What, Emma, afraid?" said Alfred, going to her; "why yes, really she trembles; why, my dear Emma, do you recollect how frightened you and Mary were at the noise of the frogs when you first came here; you got used to it very soon, and so you will to the howl of a wolf." "There is some difference, Alfred," replied Emma, shuddering as the howl was repeated. "I don't know how it is," said she, rallying her spirits, "but I believe it was reading Little Red Riding Hood when I was a child, which has given me such a horror of a wolf; I shall get over it very soon, I have no doubt."