THE WOLFMAN.
There was weeping and wailing at the village of Dubina, in northernRussia. Women went about with red eyes, and men with grave faces; for adreadful calamity had happened upon this quiet summer afternoon, and thehearts of all were heavy with grief and sympathy. But loudest of allrose the lamentation from the house of the widow Fedosia, a widow of butsix months' standing, and the mother of four small children, theyoungest of whom, a child of eight months, had this day met with aterrible fate.
No wonder the poor mother lifted her voice in lamentations which thewhole village could hear, for the little chap she had just lost had beena splendid specimen of baby humanity, and the wise woman of the villagehad prophesied great things for him; and now!
Let me explain what had happened. Fedosia, being a house-serf at themansion of the manor-lord--for all this happened towards the close ofthe fourth decade of this century, and in the days of serfdom--and beingbusy up at the big house, had permitted her eldest daughter, a child oftwelve, to wander away into the woods mushroom-hunting, and to take thebaby Petka for an airing. She had often been entrusted with her littlebrother before, so that, the mother thought, there was no risk inallowing her this responsibility. But Katinka came back alone, and tolda terrible tale. The poor child could scarcely speak for fright andhorror; but when the distracted mother had succeeded in persuading herto find her tongue, the tale she told was sufficient to horrify thewhole village, as indeed it did. The children had been some littledistance from home, Katinka said--perhaps a mile and a half from thebeginning of the forest, but quite close to the path, so that they wereperfectly safe, as she thought; and Katinka had laid the child downwhile she filled her basket with the beautiful mushrooms which abound inthat spot. The baby fell asleep, and Katinka wandered about from placeto place, but always, as she believed, remaining within a few yards ofthe child. Suddenly, on looking up from the ground, she was horrified tohear a savage growl, and to see just in front of her, glaring at herwith big eyes, and showing its large white teeth, a huge wolf,accompanied by seven or eight little ones. She could not, of course, besure of the number, and there might have been fewer. Katinka rushed backto where she imagined little Petka was lying asleep, but to her horrorshe found that he was no longer there. Either he had crawled away, orshe had mistaken the place. Frantically she rushed from spot to spot,calling to the boy, and peering under every tree; but all in vain. Hewas nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, the big wolf and the little onesstood and looked after her, following her with their eyes wherever shewent, and the mother growled and showed her teeth, so that Katinka,after a time, became so frightened that she was obliged to give up hopeof finding the baby, and ran away homewards as fast as she could,leaving the wolves behind--for they did not follow her--and reachinghome more dead than alive, to tell her mother the terrible story of heradventure and poor little Petka's dreadful end. Of course no one couldfor a moment doubt that the wolf family had made a meal of him by thistime, even supposing that the poor little man had not already been tornto pieces and bolted while Katinka was still looking for him in theforest.
On learning the news, a party of men had immediately set out to searchthe place for any evidence they might find as to the child's fate, butthey had returned without having obtained the slightest clue. The wolveshad disappeared, naturally enough, and so had the baby. There was no useto hope any longer. Poor Fedosia must resign herself to the inevitable:little Petka was dead, eaten by the wolves. Of this there could nolonger be the slightest doubt. Enough that it was God's will, and Heknew best what was good for the child; but for all that, the poor,bereaved mother was inconsolable. Petka had been her favourite, her babyboy, and she should never see his bright face and his splendid limbsagain! No wonder she wept, and that her lamentations were to be heard bythe whole village, or that she cried incessantly over the needleworkthat her mistress gave her to do next day up at the big house, therebyincurring the wrath of the lady, and bringing upon her head sundrybracing but heartless truisms, such as the following:--
"What are you crying about, fool? Are you so rich that it is not a trueblessing to have got rid of one of your brats? It is I who have a rightto weep, for by your carelessness I have lost a future serf. Stop cryingat once, or you shall be fined for spoiling my dress-stuff."
The family up at the mansion were of the worst type of the Russian serfowners of former days--cruel, stupid, unsympathetic, utterly unable tounderstand the peasants whom fate had placed at their mercy, or to treatthem with intelligent consideration; not even wise enough to keep withinthe laws as to the rights of manor-lord and peasant, but exacting morelabour than they were by law entitled to, and, in a word, treating themas very slaves, instead of as--what they really were, or ought to havebeen--semi-free peasants holding land allotments for which they paidrent by the labour of their hands.
For two whole months and a week the poor mother wept as much as shedared, for she could in no wise get over the loss of her darling. Invain the mistress threatened, and her companions, fatalists all, argued.The soul of the mother refused comfort; she still mourned for her babyboy.
Then, one glad day, the most astonishing, marvellous, and joyful thinghappened that any one in the village had ever heard tell of. The wisewoman said that it was certainly a miracle, and pointed out that sheherself had always prophesied a wonderful future for the little son ofthe widow Fedosia. The marvel, for it was nothing less, was in thiswise. A moujik happened, as he declared, to be walking about in thewoods (he was stealing firewood, as a matter of fact, but that detaildid not appear in the man's tale) when he suddenly saw one of the mostastonishing spectacles that ever the eye of moujik beheld. A large wolf,a she-wolf, lay fast asleep under the shade of a spreading pine, andaround her gambolled a whole family of little wolves, amongst which wasa small form which Ivan first of all took to be a _lieshui_, orwood-spirit, but soon decided could be none other than a human child. Itplayed quite naturally with the little wolflings its companions, andpresently went for refreshment to the old she-wolf, just exactly as theydid.
Ivan did not know, what is nevertheless the case, that ever since theworld began there have been tales and legends, some well authenticated,of lost human babes being fed and protected by she-wolves, the maternalinstincts of which animals seem to be most highly developed.
The peasant was, naturally, much alarmed. He stood and stared, crossinghimself and praying, as he declared, for quite a long while, not able todecide what would be the best course to pursue. It was Fedosia's child.He was soon certain of that fact, for when he had collected hisscattered wits he recognized the infant; but what was to be done inorder to make sure of securing the boy while driving away the wolf to asafe distance? He was not afraid for himself, for he had his axe at hisgirdle, but he was in terror lest the old wolf should awake suddenly,and, perceiving him, either make off with the baby, or else gobble it upor injure it, then and there, in the excitement of the moment. However,something must be done, for he must have the baby at all hazards; so,after reflection, Ivan decided to awake the old mother with a shout, andthen rush in before she should have time to attend to her humanfoster-child.
Ivan crossed himself, took a deep breath, yelled his very loudest, andran in. In an instant big wolf and little wolves were all on their feetand half a score of yards away, galloping through the pines in a longgrey procession, quick as the flight of a thought, the little human babytrying its utmost to follow and keep up with them, scrambling on feetand hands, but lagging hopelessly behind, though it crawled quickly--farquicker than Ivan had ever before believed a child capable of gettingover the ground in that way. The wolves disappeared in the density ofthe forest, and Ivan made after the poor little scrambling amateur wolf,and caught him without much difficulty, though the savage little thingbit and scratched at him, emitting queer growls and snarls, as though ithad acquired the ferocious spirit of its foster-mother. Ivan hadconsiderable difficulty in carrying the little savage home, for itstruggled and fought the entire way. Once or twice he put
it down uponthe ground in order to rest his arms, when it would make off on allfours as fast as it could in the direction of the forest.
I must not attempt to describe the joy of the mother when, in theevening, she returned to find her house filled with neighbours whosurrounded, and cried over, and attempted to fondle the little one,recovered, as it were, from the very depths of the grave. The wise womanwas there among others, pronouncing charms over the fierce littlecreature, in order to exorcise the savage spirit which had usurped itsbreast. It did not appear that these exorcisms produced much discernibleeffect, for as soon as any one touched or attempted to approach thechild, it still bit and clawed at them with its tiny brown hands andlong, sharp nails with the greatest energy and spirit. Even the poormother, weeping and laughing, and thanking God by turns, was scarcelymore successful than her neighbours in placating it; but in her joy atfinding the child alive and well she thought little of so trifling adrawback to her perfect happiness. "He will soon learn to know hismother again," she said, with true maternal instinct. "God has sent himback to me from the jaws of the wolves. That is enough of mercy for thepresent. My Petka will soon love his mother. If a savage wolf couldteach him to love her so well, cannot I, his own mother, find his heart?Good-night, neighbours, and thank you all for your sympathy. God hasbeen good to the poor widow. In a week Petka will be wholly mine."
The widow was right. Gradually the child, who had temporarily forgottenhis own mother during his association with his foster parent andbrothers and sisters, became humanized; and gradually the present beganto efface the lately past, just as it must have done when he first fellinto the company of the wolves; and his mother day by day enjoyed therapture of seeing how her own influence was perceptibly gaining groundin the child's affections. From the very first evening he no longer bitand scratched at her when she came near, for he soon comprehended thatthere was nothing to fear from this amiable human being whose presencehad filled him, at the beginning, with terror and suspicion.
The key to the heart with animals, and, to a certain extent, with littlechildren, is through the stomach, and the tiny wolf-boy soon learnedwhence to expect his rations. He was fed upon bread and milk, and tookkindly to the new food, though it was impossible to administer it with aspoon. He would, for the first day or two, lie upon the floor with thebasin in front of him, and get at the food as best he could, making aterrible mess of the place, and growling in a ridiculous cat-like manneras he consumed it, and until the last drop was finished.
He had arrived at his old home naked, as might be expected, and it wassome little while before he could be persuaded to wear any clothes putupon him by his mother. Gradually, however, he learned to sit upon hismother's lap, and allowed himself to be nursed, and washed, and fondled,and dressed, like ordinary children. He was not, indeed, to be touchedby any of the neighbours. It was long before he would trust any one buthis mother, but to Fedosia herself he was tame.
As the boy grew older and learned to talk, he lost all his wolfishness,excepting that it occasionally showed itself in bursts of savage passionif irritated, when he would relapse into wolfish ways until the fitpassed off, giving vent the while to the most curious sounds, halfgrowling and half articulate, which at once betrayed his connection withthe lower animals.
Moreover, he never lost that love for the open air and for the freedomof the forest which he had acquired while in the society of hisfoster-brethren. He loved to roam about the woods seeking mushrooms, ordreaming beneath the pine trees; but as years went on, and he becamestrong enough to carry a gun, he became a matchless wood-craftsman. Hewas a hunter from the top of his head to the sole of his foot--savage inthe pursuit of every bird and beast, with one exception: nothing wouldever induce him to shoot a wolf. Whether his aversion to the very ideaof killing one of those animals sprang from any natural instinct ofpersonal connection with them, or whether from an equally natural senseof gratitude for the great service which his foster-mother hadundoubtedly rendered him in cherishing and suckling him in the old days,it is impossible to say, but the fact remained that he would never raisehis hand to do hurt to any member of the family, nor would he suffer anyone else in the village to injure one. For this reason, and on accountof his experiences as a baby, Petka had been christened by hiscompanions "Volkitch," or Wolfson, and by this name alone he was known.
As time went on, Volkitch came to be renowned for miles around by reasonof his marvellous skill and courage as a hunter of every conceivableanimal, great or small. He had inherited from his foster-relations asingular faculty for tracking and stalking, and could glide through thecover as stealthily as one of themselves, or as one of the foxes whichformed an important objective for his hunting expeditions. He made hisliving and supported his mother by means of this instinct or talent inthe pursuit of game, selling the skins to a dealer in the nearest town,and hawking grouse, black-game, and other birds about the country onthose days when he was free to do so--that is, when his services werenot required by the manor-lord.
The latter was a late acquisition to the community. His father andpredecessor as lord of the manor was, happily for the peasants, dead. Hehad been a thoroughly bad master to them while alive--cruel and unjust,disregarding alike the laws of the emperors Paul and Nicholas and thoseof common humanity, exacting four and even as many as six days in theweek in labour from the serfs, instead of the maximum three, as by thelaw of Paul enjoined. Worse than this, he had sold or exchanged serfs,separating families which had in any way made themselves obnoxious tohim, and thus severing their connection with the land of their fathers,of which he had no right to deprive them.
The present lord was a young fellow of about five-and-twenty, scarcelyolder than Volkitch himself, who was now of age, and a strapping, stronglad, active and powerful as the creatures which gave him his name. Theyoung lord, though infinitely juster and more humane than his latefather, was still imbued with some of the autocratic spirit of hispredecessor--haughty and arrogant. He treated the moujiks as beings ofan altogether inferior order, and though he bore himself towards themwith strict legality, and allowed them the full rights and privileges towhich they were by law entitled, yet he never showed them the slightestpersonal sympathy or took any notice of them beyond occasionallyswearing at them or gruffly bidding them do this or that. There was,however, one exception to this rule of hauteur towards his serfs; forthe manor-lord invariably showed himself kindly disposed towardsVolkitch, the great hunter. Sportsman himself, he admired this youngNimrod's wonderful skill in every matter bearing upon the pursuit ofwild animals, and was glad enough to have Petka with him when out in theforest after game. Together they hunted the wily lynx, pursuing it onsnowshoes until they tired it out and "treed" it; or attacked the sleepybear in his den, disturbing his winter's rest with the rude awakening ofthe long pole, and smashing in his brain with axe or bullet as he rushedout to wreak his vengeance upon the destroyers of his peace.
But it was an understood thing between the lord and his hunter thatwolves were to be exempt from attack. It was a sign of grace on thepart of the young man that he should thus have humoured his companion inthis matter; but there was another reason for his concession besidesthat of desiring to keep on good terms with the wolfman. It was a veryremarkable thing, and yet nevertheless an actual fact, that wolves,though occasionally known to be in the neighbourhood of Dubina--indeed,any one could hear them howling at night often enough--never eitherattacked the peasants of that privileged village, or attempted to carryoff their dogs, their cattle, or anything that was theirs. The wisewoman declared that the reason for this friendly abstention on the partof the wolves was undoubtedly the presence in the village of Volkitch,the beloved of wolves, and in a manner their relative. The fact that thesame wolves, while sparing Dubina, frequently carried off the propertyof dwellers in neighbouring villages, certainly seemed to lend colour tothe statement of the wise woman, though the priest at Lvof and perhaps afew other sceptical persons in the district were of opinion that the"gentlemen in grey," being
about as astute and cunning as any creaturethat has a vested interest in the forest, were well aware of thewolfman's presence certainly, but that they kept away from that greathunter, not out of a sentimental regard for his connection with theirfamily, of which connection they were probably ignorant, but simply outof respect for the prowess of Volkitch and the safety of their own greyskins. However this may have been, it is a fact that they did no hurt toany fellow-villager of Volkitch, and that was a very admirablecharacteristic about the Dubina wolves.
One day, however, something occurred which looked rather as though thismillennium were at an end. A wolf broke into the manor sheep-fold onewinter night, and stole a young lamb. The lord heard the news, and grewgrave and thoughtful, but decided to let the matter pass, out ofconsideration for his favourite, the hunter Volkitch. But when, a fewnights later, a second lamb was taken, its haughty owner lost his temperand sent hurriedly for the wolfman.
"Volkitch," began the barin, when the latter appeared, "you have heardthe news. What is to be done?"
"I will pay for the two lambs," said the hunter, "and I will watch bynight and see that your fold is not robbed again."
"You shall neither pay for the lambs nor watch," said the young lord;"but it is time this nonsense about wolves was ended. You shall go outand rid me of this thief, Volkitch."
"I?" said the horrified hunter. "Would you have me slay my ownfoster-mother or a relative?"
"Nonsense," said the other. "Your foster-mother, as you call her, andher children and grandchildren have died out long before this. You haveshown your devotion to her pious memory long enough. Go out and shootthis beast, as I command you, or--or--well--yes, I will go and rid theworld of the infernal thief myself."
Volkitch looked wolfish and wicked, but he kept his temper.
"I will not go, your mercifulness," he said; "and if you will believe myhonest word, it were better that you did not slay this wolf either. Aworse thing may happen to Dubina than the loss of two lambs."
"I have said that I will slay the thief if I come across it," the barininsisted. "Now go to your work. Stay; come back here at twelve o'clockwith your gun. I have a fancy to track a hare or two with you thisafternoon."
Volkitch sighed, crossed himself before the ikon, and left the room.
On hearing the wolfman's tale, which that worthy quickly made known atthe village drinking-shop, every moujik present was horrified with thesacrilegious words of the lord. To them it seemed no less than sacrilegeto speak of slaying wolves, so accustomed were they to the idea thatthe wolf was a sacred and privileged creature at Dubina. As for the wisewoman, she did not hesitate to declare that a great calamity wouldbefall the community if such a thing were to happen as the violent deathof a wolf at the hands of an inhabitant of the place. The hunter himselfdid not say much--he was never a great talker; but he looked moody andwolfish, as was his way when crossed. Nevertheless, he went obedientlyto the mansion at noon, as commanded, in order to accompany his masterinto the forest for the purpose of ringing and driving a hare or two forthe shooting of the lord of the manor.
Volkitch was as capable in the matter of ringing and driving a hare asany man that ever wore snowshoes. Within a few minutes a track was foundand singled out from among the mazes of old footprints which covered thesnowy surface of the land (Volkitch could tell at a glance how many daysor hours each track had been made), the barin was placed in position,and the driving commenced. But before he had proceeded many yards theyoung hunter's practised eye detected the track of another and a largeranimal--a wolf. There was evidence that two of these animals had suppedbeneath a thicket on the left, for there were the remains of the feaststrewing the ground--bones and the unfinished portion of the carcass ofa lamb. Tracks led away from these remains in the direction of the placein which the manor-lord had taken his stand: probably Volkitch haddisturbed the wolves in the midst of their mid-day siesta. Filled withapprehension for the consequences of this unfortunate circumstance, thehunter rushed at full speed towards the right, in order to drive thewolf out of dangerous quarters. The next moment came a shot, followed bya second, and then by a cry of "Volkitch! help!"
The wolfman was not without love for his master, and though angry withhim at this moment, he was not so angry that he would stand still whilethe young lord stood in deadly peril of his life.
"I come!" shouted the wolfman.
He came quickly as the wind travels, but he was only just in time. Theyoung lord had missed a wolf with his first barrel, and firing again hadslightly wounded the savage beast, which instantly turned upon him, andwith a rush and a spring bore him to the ground.
It was at this moment that Volkitch appeared, when the second wolf,which had been about to dash in to the assistance of its companion, sawhim and made off.
For an instant only the wolfman hesitated, then with a shout of rage hesprang upon the savage beast that stood snarling and showing its teethover the prostrate count.
"You fool!" cried the wolfman. "Would you attack one of my own? I wouldhave protected you; now you shall die!" He plunged his knife, with thewords, into the heart of the great brute, which glared at him for aninstant with glazing eye, then fell forward, expiring. The count aroseto thank and praise his hunter, but the wolfman took no notice.
"You shall have your freedom, Volkitch, from this day," said his master;"for you have well earned it." But Volkitch neither smiled nor thankedhim.
For a minute or two the wolfman leaned up against a tree close by,weeping bitterly; then he turned and fled through the forest.
* * * * *
When the young lord realized, a few days after this, that the wolfmanhad finally fled, he inaugurated a great hue and cry after him, for hewas concerned about his hunter, whom he really liked and valued. Thepeasants of the villages upon the estate were all pressed to take partin the search, which lasted for many days; but, though rewards wereoffered for his discovery, and though threats of punishment in case ofhis non-capture were freely scattered, the moujiks entirely failed tofind any traces of him.
There had been a fresh fall of snow, which had obliterated, theyexplained, all tracks. It was impossible to find him; so the chase was,eventually, abandoned. The young lord rightly conjectured that thepeasants knew more about the matter than they chose to reveal, andpunished certain selected individuals whom he suspected to be moreguilty than the rest; but his severity did not result in the discoveryof the missing hunter.
Meanwhile, the wolfman was not very far away. After his disappearance hewas, at first, invisible, but after a while he began to make occasionalvisits to his old home, though only for an hour or two at a time, to seehis mother, and to obtain ammunition and tea. He inhabited an abandonedwoodman's hut in the forest, and was rarely seen by man. It was acurious and significant circumstance that after his departure the numberof wolves that prowled about the neighbourhood increased quickly;neither did the village any longer enjoy that immunity from theirdepredations which it had known in former days.
Then something happened which changed the whole tenor of the wolfman'sthoughts and opinions in the matter of his foster-relations.
His mother, to whom he was entirely devoted, now an elderly woman, waswandering through the forest one evening filling her basket with brokenfirewood, when she was suddenly attacked by three wolves. Having a smallhatchet in her hand she bravely kept the brutes off, killing one andwounding another, but being herself badly bitten by the third before shereached home, more dead than alive with the shock of her adventure andthe terror of it.
When the wolfman heard this, and saw his mother suffering, the scalesfell from his eyes. The sacred animal, from occupying the premierposition in his strange affections, next to that of his own mother, hadsuddenly fallen to the lowest. From that day and until he had clearedthe surrounding forests of the enemy, there was terrible warfare betweenVolkitch and the wolves. They had become abominable in his eyes, and hein theirs; he chased them when there were but two or three of them, an
dwhen they were assembled in a pack they chased him.
Once he was seen by a terrified peasant to cross the road, pursued by ascore of howling brutes. The wolfman led by half a dozen paces or so,and stabbed at his foes, when one presumed to come within reach, withthe dagger he held in one hand, or struck at it with the pistol hecarried in the other. "The wolfman uttered fierce yells as he ran,"said the peasant, "and laughed in a terrible manner. For certain," heended, "he was caught and killed."
"_The wolfman uttered fierce yells as he ran._"Page 129.]
Yet a week after that evening the wolfman appeared at the manor-houseand announced, to the delight of the lord, that he had come to be hishunter once again, as of old.
The count laughed, and shook his hand, and spoke kindly to him.
"You are welcome, Volkitch; and for your service to me of last year bothyour mother and yourself are free peasants, and shall till your ownsoil." After a while he added, "But what of the wolves, Volkitch? Willyou hunt them also now? For there have been many of late, so that theybecome a terror in the place. Only last week the peasants say that--"
The wolfman laughed strangely, and his eyes glistened.
"A week ago is a week ago," he said; "but to-day is to-day. The wolvesthat lived are dead. Volkitch slew them. I am their enemy. Find me awolf and I will kill it."
Gunpowder Treason and Plot, and Other Stories for Boys Page 4