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“One day we set out on a continuous hunt. We followed her from our farms away to the Connecticut River. Then the three-footed animal came back again, and we followed her back to the farms.

“But the bloodhounds now knew her and had got scent of her, and they led us to a den in the woods. This den was only about three miles from my house. She may have hidden in it many times before.

“We gathered before the den, and lighted straw and pushed it into the den to drive her out. But she did not appear.

“Then we put sulphur on the straw and forced it into the den, so that it might fill the cavern with the fumes. But the three-footed wolf did not come out of the den. The cave might be a large one; it might have an opening out some other way.

“We called a huge dog, and bade him to enter the cave. He dove down through the opening. Presently we heard him cry; he soon backed out of the opening, bleeding. The wolf was in the cave.

“Another dog, and another were forced to enter the cave, both returning whining and bleeding. Neither smoke nor dogs were able to destroy that animal that had made herself a terror of the country round.