ere is no trap; then, instead of the piece of flesh, the
great attraction, being put in an obscure and hidden path, it should, on
the contrary, be placed in an open spot, on the border of a wood, in a
glade, or in a field on the verge of the forest, in order that the
sportsman who is laying in wait, in ambush, may be able to see what is
passing; he must, too, conceal himself as much as possible, either in a
thicket under the foliage, in a hut made with the boughs of trees, or
in a hole dug in the ground; but he should always be so placed that he
is against the wind, and if the moon is up he ought to take especial
care that he is in the shade.

But it sometimes happens that the sportsman, at a moment when there is
no time to run a drag,--for instance, after dinner when smoking a cigar,
he suddenly takes it into his head to kill a wolf, and it is too late to
bait the spot; nevertheless the hunter will have nothing less than his
wolf. Before leaving home, therefore, he orders his servant to bring him
a duck; this he puts into his pocket, and shouldering his gun, seeks the
depths of the forest alone. Having found a favourable spot,--a place
where four roads meet is that, if possible, generally chosen,--he hangs
the unfortunate duck by the leg to the branch of a neighbouring tree,
which, as if divining the part that he is intended to play in the piece,
flaps his wings, and begins to cry and quack most vehemently.

Extraordinary as it may appear, it is well known that the cries of the
duck and the goose are those most readily heard by a wolf, and
consequently it is by no means a rare occurrence to see one of these
animals arrive. An unweaned lamb, which is always bleating for its
mother, is also an excellent decoy-bait to attract them.

In the months of May and June, when the sportsman happens to tumble upon
a she-wolf, the cubs of which are suckling, a drag may be run with one
of them; the mother will for certain follow the track, and, if you are
not properly on your guard, and well prepared to receive her, it is
equally certain she will play you a very unpleasant trick, and make you
feel that it is not wise to excite the maternal tenderness of a wild
animal. But it is in winter that the wolves are more especially
dangerous, and it is in this rough season that war to the knife is
declared against them. The peasants, as well the wood-cutters and
charcoal-burners of the forest, having then no employment, assemble in
small ba