The Winnipeg Wolf 
The Wolf turned toward the slaughter-house, 
a familiar resort, and the shooting ceased on 
account of the houses, as well as the Dogs, being 
so near. ‘These were indeed now close enough 
to encircle him and hinder all further flight. 
He looked for a place to guard his rear for a 
final stand, and seeing a wooden foot-bridge 
over a gutter he sprang in, there faced about 
and held the pack at bay. ‘The men got bars 
and demolished the bridge. He leaped out, 
knowing now that he had to die, but ready, 
wishing only to make a worthy fight, and 
then for the first time in broad day view of all 
his foes he stood—the shadowy Dog-killer, the 
disembodied voice of St. Boniface woods, the 
wonderful Winnipeg Wolf. 
Veet 
At last after three long years of fight he 
stood before them alone, confronting twoscore 
Dogs, and men with guns to back them—but 
facing them just as resolutely as I saw him that 
day in the wintry woods. ‘The same old curl 
was on his lips—the hard-knit flanks heaved 
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