It became quite clear to me that, in this rough country, it was
useless to think of pursuing Lobo with hounds and horses, so that
poison or traps were the only available expedients. At present we
had no traps large enough, so I set to work with poison.

I need not enter into the details of a hundred devices that I
employed to circumvent this 'loup-garou'; there was no
combination of strychnine, arsenic, cyanide, or prussic acid, that I
did not essay; there was no manner of flesh that I did not try as
bait; but morning after morning, as I rode forth to learn the result, I
found that all my efforts had been useless. The old king was too
cunning for me. A single instance will show his wonderful
sagacity. Acting on the hint of an old trapper, I melted some
cheese together with the kidney fat of a freshly killed heifer,
stewing it in a china dish, and cutting it with a bone knife to avoid
the taint of metal.

When the mixture was cool, I cut it into lumps, and making a hole
in one side of each lump, I inserted a large dose of strychnine and
cyanide, contained, in a capsule that was impermeable by any
odor; finally I sealed the holes up with pieces of the cheese itself.
During the whole process, I wore a pair of gloves steeped in the
hot blood of the heifer, and even avoided breathing on the baits.
When all was ready, I put them in a raw-hide bag rubbed all over
with blood, and rode forth dragging the liver and kidneys of the
beef at the end of a rope. With this I niade a ten-mile circuit,
dropping a bait at each quarter of a mile, and taking the utmost
care, always, not to touch any with my hands.