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“The neighbors were called together, and the conch shell was blown. We tracked the wolf and got sight of her. She was no witch, but a long, gaunt, powerful she-wolf, a great frame of bones, with a sneaking head and evil eyes.

“We pursued her, but she was gone. She seemed to vanish. ‘She is a witch,’ said the herdman. ‘She is no witch,’ said I, ‘and if she were, it is my duty to put her out of existence, and I will!’

“We hunted her again and again, but she was too cunning for us. She disappeared. She would be absent during the summer, but in the fall she would return, and bring her summer whelps with her. She fed her brood not only on my flocks but on those of the farms of the country around. We gathered new bands to hunt her; the people rose in arms against her—against that one cunning animal.—Put cedar wood on the fire.

“I formed a new plan. We would hunt her continuously, two at a time.

“She lost a part of one foot in a steel trap at last. Then the people came to know that she was no witch. We could track her now by the mark of the three feet in the snow. She limped, and her three sound feet could not make the quick shifts that her four feet had made of old.