It's nuthin'--nuthin' but what those lousy fellers believe when they've bin hittin' the bottle too long--a sort of great animal that lives up yonder, quick as lightning in its tracks, an' bigger'n anything else in the Bush, an' ain't supposed to be very good to look at--that's all!
craft of birch bark like a thing of life, answering cheerfully all his companion's questions. Both were gay and light-hearted. On such occasions men lose the superficial, worldly distinctions; they become human beings working together for a common end. Simpson, the employer, and Défago the employed, among these primitive forces, were simply--two men, the "guider" and the "guided." Superior knowledge, of course, assumed control, and the younger man fell without a second thought into the quasi-subordinate position. He never dreamed of objecting when Défago dropped the "Mr.," and addressed him as "Say, Simpson," or "Simpson, boss," which was invariably the case before they reached the farther shore after a stiff paddle of twelve miles against a head wind. He only laughed, and liked it; then ceased to notice it at all.
For this "divinity student" was a young man of parts and character, though as yet, of course, untraveled; and on this trip--the first time he had seen any country but his own and little Switzer
The Wendigo is creepy in a way only Victorian stories can be. It is a short story, but an intense one. It did not take me long to read this story but it stayed in my head long after I finished, leaving me with a vague sense of unease and dread for the remainder of the night. I will be keeping this book in my collection and I recommend that horror fans read it if they can.
This is hair raising horror a la E.A. Poe - no blood and gore, just that bone chilling fear of knowing their is a presence of something terrible just beyond the trees...
Good atmospheric short story about a supernatural encounter with a creature in the Canadian woods.