The Winnipeg Wolf 
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 pre- 
ferred the city to the country, that passed by 
the Sheep to kill the Dogs, and that always 
hunted alone. 
In telling the story of Ze 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 de- 
stroyed, alas! in the fire that reduced the 
Mulvey Grammar School to ashes in 1896. 
292 
