Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 39: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

NORTH OF MIDNIGHT 37 For five or six hours all went well. Olmai toiled like a Trojan, breaking holes in the ice to test the depth of water, scratching snow away to find where the shore ended, and whether there was mud or gravel underneath. Once he helped Garrod up into a © tree, so that he could get the lie of the land. And then suddenly he called out that they must go back. Garrod’s work was actually done, but he resented being ordered about, and had been looking forward to a drink and a cigarette before starting the journey home. ‘“* What’s the trouble?” he inquired “It’s the wolf.” “What wolf? ”’ ‘“'There’s a wolf that’s haunted this district,’”’ Aimo told him, “for ten years. He’s killed dozens of their sheep and reindeer calves. ‘They’ve seen him often, but they can never manage to shoot him. ‘They say he lives in Russia, and slips back over the border where he knows they can’t follow him.”’ “Why don’t they poison the brute? ”’ ‘“They’ve tried a hundred times. He never goes near any kill that’s been touched by a human being. When they set traps for him, he scratches them up.” ‘* Sounds like a mythical wolf to me.”’ “No doubt,” Aimo replied. ‘“ But if you’d lost as many sheep as I have, you’d allow the myth a basis of fact. ‘The Govern- ment evidently does. They’ve put a bounty of a million marks on this particular myth’s head.”’ ‘But I thought wolves hunted in packs.” ‘Not always. Not even very often.” ‘“ Anyway, what’s this wolf got to do with our going home? Olmai hasn’t seen it, has he?” Aimo paused. “ Not exactly,” he admitted. “ But he says it’s hanging about his hut, and he must go back and make sure everything is safe.” Garrod snorted, but said nothing. Olmai meantime had been harnessing the sledges. As soon as he gave the word, the party set off, following their own tracks through the forest and travel- ling at a good speed. Olmai was leading with his rifle at the ready, then came Garrod on his sledge, followed by Aimo. They cracked along for the best part of an hour. Suddenly, only a mile or two from the hut, Olmai stopped dead, and the reindeer, trotting close behind him, splayed its feet out to stop ‘too. Garrod’s sledge, skidding over the ice with the weight of a powerful man inside, ran smack against its hind legs. The sledges the Lapps use are made exactly like small rowing dinghies With age and cold, one of the timbers forming the comicloooks.comn)