The Winnipeg Wolf 
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 al- 
most as mysterious as the first. The animals 
barely touched each other. The gray one 
bounded aside, his head out of sight for a mo- 
ment 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, 
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