An old poacher lived on the north shore of a remote lake, and the game warden assigned to the district was getting ready to retire, so he didn’t care to chase the criminal trapper.
A young new warden, sent to fill the vacancy, heard of the mountain man and his serious lack of ethics, and he said to himself, he was gonna catch that rascal.
All summer - canoeing, hiking, glassing, checking rumors, traipsing the boreal forest, he never even got a look at the guy and then that winter the lake froze over and the new warden said to himself, I will wake early, I’ll snowshoe in, and when he leaves his cabin, I’ll be on him.
Sure enough, 44 below zero, he slugged his way in, sunk down in the snow and sat glassing at the cabin well before sunrise and he was soon semi frozen, but he remained, and when he saw a smoke plume erupt from the cabin’s chimney it gave him hope that, ok, at least I know he is in there. It steeled his resolve as frigid as it was, and he waited.