The Winnipeg Wolf 
part of the ring was a huge black Dog bound- 
ing about and barking, but keeping ever be- 
hind 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 direc- 
tion. 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-look- 
ing 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 statuesqueas 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 
291 
