The Wolf Hunter

 •  2 min. read  •  grade level: 5
In the early history of Canada, when wolves were numerous, a bounty was offered by the government for every wolf or whelp skin brought in. Money in the new settlements was not very plentiful, and as the reward was so liberal, a good many of the back country farmers began hunting wolves.
One man, while going through the woods, saw something move in a thicket. He stopped and found himself looking into the flaming eyes of a female wolf. In an instant she disappeared in the thick undergrowth. The hunter advanced carefully and soon found the lair and six little cubs. He killed the cubs, took their skins to the local officer and collected the reward.
The following year he went out again on a hunting expedition. Again he came across the wolf with another litter of six whelps, which he also killed and brought in the skins as before.
"But," said the official, "have you never seen the mother of these? You know the ravages wolves are making, and the old ones should be destroyed."
"I look out for that!" said the hunter. "If I kill the she wolf there will be no more whelps!"
That is exactly the way it is with many of us; there is the killing off of the whelps and cubs born of a fallen and wicked nature, but one litter just succeeds another and the race is not extinct. You know that you are a sinner. You know that the wages of sin is death, and from time to time you are in the habit of correcting one vice or another while the root of all is still there. It is no use; all such efforts at improvement are futile. You must be born again. The old life is utterly bad and cannot be mended; a bad tree can only bring forth bad fruit.