温尼伯的狼THE WINNIPEG WOLF

温尼伯的狼
我第一次见识温尼伯狼，是在1882年的一场巨大的暴风雪之中。为了抵达温尼伯，我在三月中旬就离开了圣保罗，穿越过大草原。我原本希望能够在24小时之内到达，可这威力十足的暴风雪却自有打算，鹅毛大雪一直向西吹着。随着时间的流逝，大雪逐渐在持续而强劲的风暴中平息下来。我从来都没见过这样的暴风雪。似乎整个世界都陷进了大雪之中——白雪，那旋转纷乱、严寒刺骨、飘摇堆积的白雪——就连那噗噗喷着蒸汽、怪兽似的火车发动机都不得不因为这些一尘不染的微小羽毛状晶体而停滞下来。
力气大的人拿着铁锹，到恰巧遮挡住我们道路的蜷曲雪堆旁开始清理，一小时内火车就可以通行了——但不久火车又会陷入轨道前方的另一个雪堆。这是一项单调枯燥的工作——火车陷入雪堆、接着挖开脱离困境，这样日夜不停的循环往复。这段时间当中，雪花依然在我们身旁飞舞戏耍着。
官方声称“二十二小时即可抵达埃默森”，可在我们到那之前，停停走走地挖路就花了将近两周的时间，这个白杨小镇的灌木丛阻止了大雪的堆积。从那以后，火车渐行渐缓，白杨树林变得越来越密集——我们穿过了绵延数英里的茂密森林，可能还路过了一片空旷的平地。当我们临近温尼伯的东郊圣博尼费斯的时候，火车匆匆地经过一片五十码宽的林中空地，在那其间的一群动物让我的灵魂深深地受到了震撼。
清晰跃入我眼帘的是一大群野狗，或大或小，黑的、白的还有黄的，它们蠕动起伏着逐渐环聚成了一个圈；圈的一边有只在雪中静静伸着腿的小黄狗，环形的外围处有一只吠叫着不断蹦跳的大黑狗，但它一直活动在移动的狗群部队后面。一只冷酷的大灰狼处在狗群的中央，狗群包围着它，可见这场战斗全然因它而起。
一只狼？ 它看上去像一头狮子。它孤立无援地站在那里，果断、冷静，鬃毛竖起，双腿牢固的撑在地上，眼观四路，随时准备着可能来自任何方向的攻击。它的嘴角微微卷曲，看上去像面带嘲讽，但我猜想它真正是在战斗中咆哮，显示自己的利齿。在一只看着像狼一般凶恶但却名不副实的狗的带领下，狗群一拥而上，不容丝毫迟缓，展开了第二十次攻击。只看那灰色的身影四跃，用它可怕的双颚劈斩，除了它敌人们死亡的咆哮声，那孤独的战士周围再也没有出现其它的声音。当那些被击退的狗返回来继续攻击时，他依旧如故，像一尊雕像般威严，野性十足，毫发无伤，对它的所有敌人不屑一顾。
我多么希望火车现在能像以往那样阻塞在雪堆中啊，我的整颗心都牵挂着那只灰狼，我真想去那帮助它。可惜火车从雪中林地疾驰而过，白杨树丛遮住了我的视线，我们只得继续向旅途的终点进发。
这就是我看到的全部，似乎微不足道，虽然还没过很多天，但我确信我在光天白日之下见到了这样的情景，那罕见的、惊人的生灵，真是非温尼伯的狼莫属。
温尼伯的狼拥有着奇特的历史——它比起乡村更喜欢城市，自顾自地穿过羊群去猎杀狗，还总是独自狩猎。
一些人讲诉狼人的故事时，提到了它，尽管我说的这些东西家喻户晓，但的确镇上还有很多居民并不知道。大街上自以为是的小店店主从没听说过这只狼，直到一天，这只狼在屠宰场被杀以后，人们将它的尸体送到海因兽皮剥制师的店里装裱好，不久展览于芝加哥世界博览会。唉！最终它消逝于一场火灾之中，这场火灾将马尔维语法学校化为了灰烬。
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小混混保罗，这个长相俊帅却无能的混血儿，不想工作的他却对捕猎跃跃欲试。1880年六月的一天，他带着猎枪逡巡在密林丛生的基尔多南红河河堤上。他看见了一只灰色的狼从河堤的洞里钻了出来，趁此机会开了一枪，打死了它。当他放猎狗过去探测，确保周围没有其他成年狼的情况下，他爬进了那个兽穴。出乎意料的他惊喜的发现那里有八只幼狼——这意味着他能得到九只狼的政府奖励金，每只十美元。这一共是多少呢？ 绝对是一大笔钱。他用力的使着一根棒子，加上他大黄狗的辅助，除了一只小狼外，其他的小狼都被杀死了。有种迷信认为，杀死一窝幼雏中最后一只，是不吉利的。所以保罗带着老狼和七只小狼的头皮回到了镇上，留了最后一只幼狼的活口。
但不久，赏金都被保罗喝酒花没了，所以酒馆主人霍根，不久后就得到了那只小幼狼。这只小狼是在锁链的束缚下长大的，但它发育成熟的胸脯与双颚是镇上所有的猎犬都比不及的。这只小狼被畜养在院子里以供顾客取乐，娱乐形式往往是一群狗来撕咬这只被俘的猎物。这只小狼好几次都差点被撕咬至死，但它都康复过来。在以后的每个月里，越来越少的猎狗愿意直面它了。它的生活过得异常艰难。在小狼的生活中仅有的一丝温暖，就是它和酒馆主人的儿子小吉姆渐渐形成的友谊。
吉姆是一个任性的孩子，微微有点调皮，有着自己的想法。他是因为那只狼杀死了一只咬过它的狗，而开始喜欢上它的。从那以后，小吉姆开始哺喂那只狼，非常宠爱它。作为回报，这只狼允许他靠近同自己肆意玩闹，没有其他人敢这样做。
吉姆的父亲并不是一个模范父亲。他总是宠溺自己的儿子，但有时又会因为一些琐事而发怒，残暴地打小吉姆。这孩子很快就意识到自己被打不是因为做错了事，而是自己让父亲生气了。所以，只要小吉姆能在父亲的愤怒消退之前避开他，自己就毫无后患之忧了。一天，小吉姆在躲避他父亲、寻找安全避身之所的时候，他一股脑儿冲进了那只狼住的窝棚，他那灰毛好友突然醒来，跑到门口呲出了它两排白色利齿，好像在对小吉姆父亲说：“你敢碰他试试看。”
如果霍根可以用枪射击那只狼的话，他早就那样做了，但是这多半也可能会杀死自己的儿子，所以霍根就没管他俩了。过了半个钟头，霍根想起刚发生的整件事，自己笑了起来。从此只要小吉姆一遇到危险，他就会冲向狼窝。
对霍根来说，在雇佣方面省俭是第一位的。所以他的“酒保”是个中国人。这个中国人是个善良怯懦的人，所以保罗•迪斯•罗什毫不犹豫地恐吓、欺负他。一天，发现霍根出门了，只有这中国人独自掌店，已经有些微醉的保罗就要求赊账喝杯东西，但童凌（音译），那个中国人按店里规定拒绝了这个要求。他笨拙地解释说：“不好，赊账不付钱，”可这远远没能解决问题，反而让保罗大吃一惊，掉头走出酒馆，心生怨恨，想着如何去报复今天受到的怠慢侮辱。或许那来自古老国家的中国酒保因此饱受了皮肉之苦，但小吉姆有一根长棍在手，他灵巧的绊倒了小混混保罗，让他摔了个四脚朝天。保罗摇摇晃晃的站了起来，咒骂着说道自己会要了小吉姆的命。但那靠近后门的孩子很快就躲到狼窝里去了。
看到那男孩有个狼保镖，保罗手拿一根长棍，自己站在一个安全距离后，开始痛打这只狼。这只灰白色的生灵在锁链的另一端恼怒起来，但是，尽管它试着用自己的牙齿咬住那根长棍，借此来躲避抽打，可它仍然被打的很痛。但保罗突然意识到吉姆并不仅仅是小嘴没闲着，他微微紧张颤抖的手指正试图松开狼的锁链，而且就快成功了。确实，如果不是这只狼将锁链绷拉的紧紧的，他早就成功了。
一想到自己马上将和这只被激怒的巨大野兽共处一室、自己会任其摆布的时候，胆大的保罗也不禁颤栗恐惧起来。
听到吉姆那哄骗的话语“等一等啊，小狼；再往后退一点点，你马上就可以消灭他了。好啦，真是一只好狼”，这样就足够吓退保罗了——混混保罗飞快的溜走了，并且还仔细的关好了他身后所有的门。
从此以后，吉姆和他宠物之间的友谊愈发好了，这只狼逐渐展露出它绝佳的野性本能，同样，随着日子的流逝，它也显示出对带着威士忌酒味的人和所有狗的仇恨，因为他们是自己过去痛苦的根源。小狼的这种特点，再加上这只狼对孩子的偏爱——某种程度上说，这种偏爱几乎包括了所有伴着它成长的孩子，也似乎印证着掌控他生命的力量源泉。
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1881年秋的这个时候，卡佩勒河的牧场工人对狼群抱怨颇多——镇上狼的数量在不断增加，而且还大量的偷猎家畜。投毒、设置陷阱都失败了，一位著名的德国旅客造访了温尼伯的俱乐部，并宣称他带来的猎犬能够轻易地消灭那些狼，大家都抱着极大的兴趣听他说着。对于喜爱运动的饲养员来说，通过建立狗舍饲养猎犬来帮助他们的经营业务是一件很诱人的事。
那个德国人很快就展示出了他猎犬的代表，两只巨型丹麦犬，一只白色、另一只蓝色夹杂着黑色的斑点，拥有着罕见的白色眼珠——完全一副异常凶猛的样子。这两只巨兽每只都体重都差不多将近两百多磅。他们的力气大得和老虎一样，那德国人早已确信独独这两只猎犬就能够匹敌身形最大的狼了。所以，他开始描述两只猎犬狩猎的方式：“你们所需要做的就是展示给它们狼留下的踪迹，即使是已经过了一天的旧迹，它们能继续追踪。狼不可能半路甩掉它们的。不论狼如何迂回地逃跑亦或是躲藏，猎犬都将很快地找到它。接下来猎犬会包围住狼。当狼想转头逃跑时，那只蓝色的猎犬会咬住它的腰腿处把它像这样扔起来，”德国人突然把手上的面包卷扔向空中；“然后在狼还没有落地之前，那只白色的猎犬会咬住它脑袋，另一只咬住它的尾巴，接下来就像这样把它撕成两半，”折断面包，德国人继续说道。
这听起来挺好，不管怎样，大家都非常希望眼见为实。若干居民说沿着阿西尼博因河畔很可能会找到大灰狼，所以大家组建好了一只狩猎队伍。可是三天之后，他们的搜寻以失败告终了，最后，他们也放弃了继续寻觅。因为有人打起了霍根酒馆里锁链牵着的那只狼的主意——他们即可以获得政府悬赏金，而且刚满一岁的小狼也正好让猎犬大显身手。
当霍根知道这件事时，顿时发现自家的狼身价百倍，除此之外，“他还有着良心上的顾虑。” 但是当别人出的价格满足他心意的时候，霍根所有的良心谴责都消失了。他第一个念头就是打发小吉姆到他祖母家办点小差事，这样就可以顺利的把那只狼牵进笼子里锁起来了。笼子运载在一辆马车上，通过陆路搬运到了一片空旷的大草原上。
当猎狗们嗅到狼的气味时，它们马上对即将来临的战斗蠢蠢欲动起来，人们都快拉不住它们了。但是几个壮汉还是用链子拉住了猎犬，装着狼的铁笼子已被拉到了半里开外，这只狼似乎遇到了一些问题。一开始它看起来挺害怕的而且郁郁寡欢。它试着躲开大家的视线，并没有一点攻击的意图。一发现自己自由了，伴着周围环绕着人们喝倒彩的嘘声，这只狼开始朝向南边的荒芜之地疾速潜行。同一时刻人们放开了猎犬，疯狂咆哮着的猎犬紧紧的追在那只狼后面。人们一边跟在猎犬身后，一边大声地为猎犬呐喊加油。最初，很明显可以看出这只狼逃不掉了。猎狗比它更加敏捷迅速，那只白色的猎狗跑得像一只灵提。那德国人激动地飞跨过那片草原，目不转睛地时刻注视着那只狼。很多人都给猎狗开赌注，但是并没有人下注。唯一被人们接受的赌注是猎狗之间相互争斗。现在那只幼狼开始加速了，但是追逐它的白色猎犬仅在不到一英里的地方——而且越来越接近了。
德国人开始呼喊起来：“来看啊！狼马上就会被抛上天啦。” 瞬间大家都跑了过来。但是猎犬败下阵来了，它并没能把狼撕咬着抛上天，反而那只退缩的白色猎犬臂膀上留下了一道深长的伤口——这是战斗的痕迹，它刚与死神擦肩而过。十秒后有着蓝色斑点的那只猎犬张开大嘴露出利齿赶了过来。这次对峙和上一次一样迅速而神秘，人们根本来不及反应到底发生了什么。它们几乎没有碰触到对方。那只灰色的紧跟在一旁，在一次快速的行动中，人们没能看见它的脑袋的动作。蓝色斑点猎犬开始有些步履蹒跚，它的侧腹部流血了。在它主人的驱使下，它又展开了攻击，结果是自己又多了一处伤口。这让它退离了战场。
接下来猎狗看管员带来了四只更大的猎犬。他们放开了狗链，靠近战场的人手握棍棒和活结套索，想帮着猎犬一起解决掉那只狼，就在这个时候，小吉姆骑着一匹小马穿过这片平原。他跳下马来，双臂环住小狼的脖子摩挲着它。小吉姆嚷着“小狼宝贝”他的“亲爱的狼宝贝”——这只狼一边舔着他的脸蛋，一般摇着尾巴。过了一会儿，男孩转过头来望着众人，泪如泉涌，不过在这里真是不好去形容他说过的话。小吉姆才九岁，可非常守旧古板，尽管也是个粗野的小男孩。他自小在酒馆长大，因此耳濡目染学会了很多脏话。小吉姆诅咒这里的每一个人以及他们的祖宗，甚至也骂到了自己父亲的头上。
如果一个成年人用如此令人震惊的侮辱性语言骂人的话，可能早就被加以私刑处死了。但这些言语出自一个小孩的口中，猎人们手足无措，但最终做了件好事。他们大声地笑了起来，不是嘲笑他们自己，因为这样并不体面——而是嘲笑那个吹嘘自己猎狗的德国人，他的猎犬竟被一只尚未成年的狼给击败了。
小吉姆现在把他自己沾满泪水的、脏脏的小拳头插进了自己“小男孩”的小口袋里，在小弹珠、口香糖、烟草、火柴、哨子、子弹壳和其他违禁品当中，摸出了一根杂货铺里的纤细的编织物，系在了小狼的脖子上。之后，依然还有些抽噎的他，开始骑着小马往家走。小吉姆一边给着小狼带着路，一边大声叫骂威胁、诅咒着那德国贵族：“如果再伤害小狼一根毫毛，我就让它咬你，上帝诅咒你。”
(*^__^*) 嘻嘻……翻译滴赶工之作~
THE WINNIPEG WOLF
It was during the great blizzard of 1882 that I first met the Winnipeg Wolf. I had left St. Paul in the middle of March to cross the prairies to Winnipeg, expecting to be there in twenty-four hours, but the Storm King had planned it otherwise and sent a heavy-laden eastern blast. The snow came down in a furious, steady torrent, hour after hour. Never before had I seen such a storm. All the world was lost in snow--snow, snow, snow--whirling, biting, stinging, drifting snow--and the puffing, monstrous engine was compelled to stop at the command of those tiny feathery crystals of spotless purity.
Many strong hands with shovels came to the delicately curled snowdrifts that barred our way, and in an hour the engine could pass--only to stick in another drift yet farther on. It was dreary work--day after day, night after night, sticking in the drifts, digging ourselves out, and still the snow went whirling and playing about us.
"Twenty-two hours to Emerson," said the official; but nearly two weeks of digging passed before we did reach Emerson, and the poplar country where the thickets stop all drifting of the snow. Thenceforth the train went swiftly, the poplar woods grew more thickly--we passed for miles through solid forests, then perhaps through an open space. As we neared St. Boniface, the eastern outskirts of Winnipeg, we dashed across a little glade fifty yards wide, and there in the middle was a group that stirred me to the very soul.
In plain view was a great rabble of Dogs, large and small, black, white, and yellow, wriggling and heaving this way and that way in a rude ring; to one side was a little yellow Dog stretched and quiet in the snow; on the outer part of the ring was a huge black Dog bounding about and barking, but keeping ever behind the moving mob. And in the midst, the centre and cause of it all, was a great, grim, Wolf.
Wolf? He looked like a Lion. There he stood, all alone--resolute-calm- with bristling mane, and legs braced firmly, glancing this way and that, to be ready for an attack in any direction. There was a curl on his lips--it looked like scorn, but I suppose it was really the fighting snarl of tooth display. Led by a wolfish-looking Dog that should have been ashamed, the pack dashed in, for the twentieth time no doubt. But the great gray form leaped here and there, and chop, chop, chop went those fearful jaws, no other sound from the lonely warrior; but a death yelp from more than one of his foes, as those that were able again sprang back, and left him statuesque as before, untamed, unmaimed, and contemptuous of them all.
How I wished for the train to stick in a snowdrift now, as so often before, for all my heart went out to that Gray-wolf; I longed to go and help him. But the snow-deep glade flashed by, the poplar trunks shut out the view, and we went on to our journey's end.
This was all I saw, and it seemed little; but before many days had passed I knew surely that I had been favored with a view, in broad daylight, of a rare and wonderful creature, none less than the Winnipeg Wolf.
His was a strange history--a Wolf that preferred the city to the country, that passed by the Sheep to kill the Dogs, and that always hunted alone.
In telling the story of le Garou, as he was called by some, although I speak of these things as locally familiar, it is very sure that to many citizens of the town they were quite unknown. The smug shopkeeper on the main street had scarcely heard of him until the day after the final scene at the slaughter-house, when his great carcass was carried to Hine's taxidermist shop and there mounted, to be exhibited later at the Chicago World's Fair, and to be destroyed, alas! in the fire that reduced the Mulvey Grammar School to ashes in 1896.
II
It seems that Fiddler Paul, the handsome ne'er-do-well of the half-breed world, readier to hunt than to work, was prowling with his gun along the wooded banks of the Red River by Kildonan, one day in the June of 1880. He saw a Gray-wo1f come out of a hole in a bank and fired a chance shot that killed it. Having made sure, by sending in his Dog, that no other large Wolf was there, he crawled into the den, and found, to his utter amazement and delight, eight young Wolves --nine bounties of ten dollars each. How much is that? A fortune surely. He used a stick vigorously, and with the assistance of the yellow Cur, all the little ones were killed but one. There is a superstition about the last of a brood--it is not lucky to kill it. So Paul set out for town with the scalp of the old Wolf, the scalps of the seven young, and the last Cub alive.
The saloon-keeper, who got the dollars for which the scalps were exchanged, soon got the living Cub. He grew up at the end of a chain, but developed a chest and jaws that no Hound in town could match. He was kept in the yard for the amusement of customers, and this amusement usually took the form of baiting the captive with Dogs. The young Wolf was bitten and mauled nearly to death on several occasions, but he recovered, and each month there were fewer Dogs willing to face him. His life was as hard as it could be. There was but one gleam of gentleness in it all, and that was the friendship that grew up between himself and Little Jim, the son of the saloonkeeper.
Jim was a wilful little rascal with a mind of his own. He took to the Wolf because it had killed a Dog that had bitten him. He thenceforth fed the Wolf and made a pet of it, and the Wolf responded by allowing him to take liberties which no one else dared venture.
Jim's father was not a model parent. He usually spoiled his son, but at times would get in a rage and beat him cruelly for some trifle. The child was quick to learn that he was beaten, not because he had done wrong, but because he had made his father angry. If, therefore, he could keep out of the way until that anger had cooled, he had no further cause for worry. One day, seeking safety in flight with his father behind him, he dashed into the Wolf's kennel, and his grizzly chum thus unceremoniously awakened turned to the door, displayed a double row of ivories, and plainly said to the father: "Don't you dare to touch him."
If Hogan could have shot the Wolf then and there he would have done so, but the chances were about equal of killing his son, so he let them alone and, half an hour later, laughed at the whole affair. Thenceforth Little Jim made for the Wolf's den whenever he was in danger, and sometimes the only notice any one had that the boy had been in mischief was seeing him sneak in behind the savage captive.
Economy in hired help was a first principle with Hogan. Therefore his "barkeep" was a Chinaman. He was a timid, harmless creature, so Paul des Roches did not hesitate to bully him. One day, finding Hogan out, and the Chinaman alone in charge, Paul, already tipsy, demanded a drink on credit, and Tung Ling, acting on standing orders, refused. His artless explanation, "No good, neber pay," so far from clearing up the difficulty, brought Paul staggering back of the bar to avenge the insult. The Celestial might have suffered grievous bodily hurt, but that Little Jim was at hand and had a long stick, with which he adroitly tripped up the Fiddler and sent him sprawling. He staggered to his feet swearing he would have Jim's life. But the child was near the back door and soon found refuge in the Wolf's kennel.
Seeing that the boy had a protector, Paul got the long stick, and from a safe distance began to belabor the Wolf, The grizzly creature raged at the end of the chain, but, though he parried many cruel blows by seizing the stick in his teeth, he was suffering severely, when Paul realized that Jim, whose tongue had not been idle, was fumbling away with nervous fingers to set the Wolf loose, and soon would succeed. Indeed, it would have been done already but for the strain that the Wolf kept on the chain.
The thought of being in the yard at the mercy of the huge animal that he had so enraged, gave the brave Paul a thrill of terror.
Jim's wheedling voice was heard -"Hold on now, Wolfie; back up just a little, and you shall have him. Now do; there's a good Wolfie"--that was enough; the Fiddler fled and carefully closed all doors behind him.
Thus the friendship between Jim and his pet grew stronger, and the Wolf, as he developed his splendid natural powers, gave daily evidence also of the mortal hatred he bore to men that smelt of whiskey and to all Dogs, the causes of his sufferings. This peculiarity, coupled with his love for the child--and all children seemed to be included to some extent--grew with his growth and seemed to prove the ruling force of his life.
III
At this time--that is, the fall of 1881--there were great complaints among the Qu'Appelle ranchmen that the Wolves were increasing in their country and committing great depredations among the stock. Poisoning and trapping had proved failures, and when a distinguished German visitor appeared at the Club in Winnipeg and announced that he was bringing some Dogs that could easily rid the country of Wolves, he was listened to with unusual interest. For the cattle-men are fond of sport, and the idea of helping their business by establishing a kennel of Wolfhounds was very alluring.
The German soon produced as samples of his Dogs, two magnificent Danes, one white, the other blue with black spots and a singular white eye that completed an expression of unusual ferocity. Each of these great creatures weighed nearly two hundred pounds. They were muscled like Tigers, and the German was readily believed when he claimed that these two alone were more than a match for the biggest Wolf. He thus described their method of hunting: "All you have to do is show them the trail and, even if it is a day old, away they go on it. They cannot be shaken off. They will soon find that Wolf, no matter how he doubles and hides. Then they close on him. He turns to run, the blue Dog takes him by the haunch and throws him like this," and the German jerked a roll of bread into the air; "then before he touches the ground the white Dog has his head, the other his tail, and they pull him apart like that."
It sounded all right; at any rate every one was eager to put it to the proof. Several of the residents said there was a fair chance of finding a Gray-wolf along the Assiniboine, so a hunt was organized. But they searched in vain for three days and were giving it up when some one suggested that down at Hogan's saloon was a Wolf chained up, that they could get for the value of the bounty, and though little more than a year old he would serve to show what the Dogs could do.
The value of Hogan's Wolf went up at once when he knew the importance of the occasion; besides, "he had conscientious scruples." All his scruples vanished, however, when his views as to price were met. His first care was to get Little Jim out of the way by sending him on an errand to his grandma's; then the Wolf was driven into his box and nailed in. The box was put in a wagon and taken to the open prairie along the Portage trail.
The Dogs could scarcely be held back, they were so eager for the fray, as soon as they smelt the Wolf. But several strong men held their leash, the wagon was drawn half a mile farther, and the Wolf was turned out with some difficulty. At first he looked scared and sullen. He tried to get out of sight, but made no attempt to bite. However, on finding himself free, as well as hissed and hooted at, he started off at a slinking trot toward the south, where the land seemed broken. The Dogs were released at that moment, and, baying furiously, they bounded away after the young Wolf. The men cheered loudly and rode behind them. From the very first it was clear that he had no chance. The Dogs were much swifter; the white one could run like a Greyhound. The German was wildly enthusiastic as she flew across the prairie, gaining visibly on the Wolf at every second. Many bets were offered on the Dogs, but there were no takers. The only bets accepted were Dog against Dog. The young Wolf went at speed now, but within a mile the white Dog was right behind him--was closing in.
The German shouted: "Now watch and see that Wolf go up in the air." In a moment the runners were together. Both recoiled, neither went up in the air, but the white Dog rolled over with a fearful gash in her shoulder--out of the fight, if not killed. Ten seconds later the Blue-spot arrived, open-mouthed. This meeting was as quick and almost as mysterious as the first. The animals barely touched each other. The gray one bounded aside, his head out of sight for a moment in the flash of quick movement. Spot reeled and showed a bleeding flank. Urged on by the men, he assaulted again, but only to get another wound that taught him to keep off.
Now came the keeper with four more huge Dogs. They turned these loose, and the men armed with clubs and lassos were closing to help in finishing the Wolf, when a small boy came charging over the plain on a Pony. He leaped to the ground and wriggling through the ring flung his arms around the Wolf's neck. He called him his "Wolfie pet," his "dear Wolfie"--the Wolf licked his face and wagged its tail--then the child turned on the crowd and through his streaming tears, he--Well it would not do to print what he said. He was only nine, but he was very old-fashioned, as well as a rude little boy. He had been brought up in a low saloon, and had been an apt pupil at picking up the vile talk of the place. He cursed them one and all and for generations back; he did not spare even his own father.
If a man had used such shocking and insulting language he might have been lynched, but coming from a baby, the hunters did not know what to do, so finally did the best thing. They laughed aloud--not at themselves, that is not considered good form--but they all laughed at the German whose wonderful Dogs had been worsted by a half-grown Wolf.
Jimmie now thrust his dirty, tear-stained little fist down into his very-much-of-a-boy's pocket, and from among marbles and chewing-gum, as well as tobacco, matches, pistol cartridges, and other contraband, he fished out a flimsy bit of grocer's twine and fastened it around the Wolf's neck. Then, still blubbering a little, he set out for home on the Pony, leading the Wolf and hurling a final threat and anathema at the German nobleman: "Fur two cents I'd sic him on you, gol darn ye."