The Winnipeg Wolf 
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-wolf 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 Wolyes—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 isa 
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 
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