HIS FIRST WOLF HUNT.

By Harold Ericson.

It happened in Russia, when I was spending the winter with a cousin who lives in St. Petersburg. This was ten years ago and we were mere boys, both of us. There is plenty to do in Russia, in winter, for those who like sledging, skating, ice-yachting, and so on, and I think I thoroughly enjoyed all these forms of amusement. Well, one day near the beginning of the winter, before the really great snows had fallen, a big wind came and swept away every particle of snow that had fallen from the twenty miles of ice which divided St. Petersburg from Cronstadt, thus giving us such an opportunity for a day's skating on a grand scale as we might never meet with again throughout our lives.

My cousin Tom had an idea in the evening just before bed-time, with the result that we ordered sandwiches for an early hour next morning and went to bed promptly, our minds full of the delightful day we were going to spend on the Gulf of Finland, now a shining field of splendid, smooth ice.

The great day broke magnificently, a glorious, sunshiny December day, the thermometer at zero, or near it, but the air so dry and bathed in sun that one was not conscious of the cold.

Oh, the joy of feeling oneself flying through the air as we raced side by side over the firm, glass-like plain of ice! We must have skated at full pace for five miles at least before we pulled up, puffing and gloriously happy, in response to an exclamation from Tom.

'It's splendid,' he said, 'and I should like to go on for miles and miles; but Father warned me to look out when we came somewhere near the middle of the gulf; he has skated here a good deal in former years, and he says one must be on the look-out for fissures which are caused by a very hard frost like this; the ice suddenly cracks and parts, sometimes only a few inches, sometimes several feet, even up to fifteen feet or so. I believe I see a crack on ahead, and that's why I stopped.'

We skated slowly forward a short way. Sure enough, there opened out before our eyes, plain as possible, a fissure of several feet in width, the water looking black and cruel as it welled up to the edge of the ice as though it longed to get at us.

'Nice sort of place if one had skated up to it at dusk, eh?' said Tom.

The water certainly looked very grim.

'It's all very well, but what are we going to do?' said I. 'It will be no fun if this is the end of our skate, and we can't get to Cronstadt!'

'Perhaps it's only a local crack; we will skate along it, first one way and then the other, and see.'

We did so, but it appeared that the spot at which we originally struck the fissure was the narrowest place; it widened at either side.

We stood and stared at it. Tom spoke first.

'Dare you?' he asked.

I saw what he meant and remained silent, considering. 'It's about six feet,' I said, 'I suppose one could fly it—both feet together, eh?'

'Yes; come on—no use thinking—we will go for it; I will give you a lead. Hold out your coat to me and pull me in if I fall short.'

Tom took a good run, got up a great speed, and launched himself into the air. He must have cleared eight or ten feet at least. 'Come on!' he laughed, 'it's as easy as winking.'

I must confess that I was more than a little frightened as I prepared to follow my daring cousin. I imitated his methods as closely as I could; I got a terrific speed up and let myself go.

I cleared the open water easily, but so great was my impetus that I turned head over heels at the other side, and lay panting and laughing on the ice.

Presently we were in full sweep once more towards Cronstadt; we reached the 'half-way house' without adventure; this was a little wooden hut built on the ice for the accommodation of travellers in need of shelter or warmth. It was kept by a man and his wife, who must have found it a weird house to live in all the winter.

'We heard wolves last night,' they told us; 'get back before dusk if you are wise!'

We thought little of the warning. We meant to be home by daylight. As for the wolves, they would have to be active animals to keep up with us at our pace!

Having enjoyed a cup of coffee and a cake apiece we continued our journey, and a few miles beyond the rest-house, came across another fissure which we calculated to be ten feet across.

By this time we were reckless, or very over confident. 'My turn to give you a lead!' said I, and suiting the action to the words, I worked up pace, flew out, and cleared the black water with ease. Tom followed and cleared it also, but in alighting he twisted his ankle a little. He uttered an exclamation of pain and sat down a moment, rubbing his leg. He said it was nothing serious, however, and indeed, he was up and off again in a few moments.

(Concluded on page 406.)