use　it　on　the　Wolf。　And　here…what！　the　Wolf　track　disappears；　but
  the　sled　track　speeds　along。　The　Wolf　has　leaped　on　the　sled。　The
  Dogs；　in　terror；　added　to　their　speed；　but　on　the　sleigh　behind
  them　there　is　a　deed　of　vengeance　done。　In　a　moment　it　is　over；
  both　roll　off　the　sled；　the　Wolf　track　reappears　on　the　east　side
  to　seek　the　woods。　The　sled　swerves　to　the　west　bank；　where；
  after　half　a　mile；　it　is　caught　and　wrecked　on　a　root。
  The　snow　also　told　Renaud　how　the　Dogs；　entangled　in　the　harness；
  had　fought　with　each　other；　had　cut　themselves　loose；　and
  trotting　homeward　by　various　ways　up　the　river；　had　gathered　at
  the　body　of　their　late　tyrant　and　devoured　him　at　a　meal。
  Bad　enough　for　the　Dogs；　still　they　were　cleared　of　the　murder。
  That　certainly　was　done　by　the　Wolf；　and　Renaud；　after　the　shock
  of　horror　was　past；　gave　a　sigh　of　relief　and　added；　〃Eet　is　le
  Garou。　He　hab　save　my　leel　girl　from　zat　Paul。　He　always　was　good
  to　children。〃
  VI
  This　was　the　cause　of　the　great　final　hunt　that　they　fixed　for
  Christmas　Day　just　two　years　after　the　scene　at　the　grave　of
  Little　Jim。　It　seemed　as　though　all　the　Dogs　in　the　country　were
  brought　together。　The　three　Huskies　were　　　therethe　Factor
  considered　them　essentialthere　were　Danes　and　trailers　and　a
  rabble　of　farm　Dogs　and　nondescripts。　They　spent　the　morning
  beating　all　the　woods　east　of　St。　Boniface　and　had　no　success。
  But　a　telephone　message　came　that　the　trail　they　sought　had　been
  seen　near　the　Assiniboine　woods　west　of　the　city；　and　an　hour
  later　the　hunt　was　yelling　on　the　hot　scent　of　the　Winnipeg　Wolf。
  Away　they　went；　a　rabble　of　Dogs；　a　motley　rout　of　horsemen；　a
  mob　of　men　and　boys　on　foot。　Garou　had　no　fear　of　the　Dogs；　but
  men　he　knew　had　guns　and　were　dangerous。　He　led　off　for　the　dark
  timber　line　of　the　Assiniboine；　but　the　horsemen　had　open　country
  and　they　headed　him　back。　He　coursed　along　the　Colony　Creek
  hollow　and　so　eluded　the　bullets　already　flying。　He　made　for　a
  barb…wire　fence；　and　passing　that　he　got　rid　of　the　horsemen　for
  a　time；　but　still　must　keep　the　hollow　that　baffled　the　bullets。
  The　Dogs　were　now　closing　on　him。　All　he　might　have　asked　would
  probably　have　been　to　be　left　alone　with　themforty　or　fifty　to
  one　as　they　werehe　would　have　taken　the　odds。　The　Dogs　were　all
  around　him　now；　but　none　dared　to　close　in；　A　lanky　Hound；
  trusting　to　his　speed；　ran　alongside　at　length　and　got　a　side
  chop　from　Garou　that　laid　him　low。　The　horsemen　were　forced　to
  take　a　distant　way　around；　but　now　the　chase　was　toward　the　town；
  and　more　men　and　Dogs　came　running　out　to　join　the　fray。
  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　stoodthe　shadowy　Dog…killer；　the
  disembodied　voice　of　St。　Boniface　woods；　the　wonderful　Winnipeg
  Wolf。
  VII
  At　last　after　three　long　years　of　fight　he　stood　before　them
  alone；　confronting　twoscore　Dogs；　and　men　with　guns　to　back
  thembut　facing　them　just　as　resolutely　as　I　saw　him　that　day　in
  the　wintry　woods。　The　same　old　curl　was　on　his　lipsthe
  hard…knit　flanks　heaved　just　a　little；　but　his　green　and　yellow
  eye　glowed　steadily。　The　Dogs　closed　in；　led　not　by　the　huge
  Huskies　from　the　woodsthey　evidently　knew　too　much　for
  thatbut　by　a　Bulldog　from　the　town；　there　was　scuffling　of　many
  feet；　a　low　rumbling　for　a　time　replaced　the　yapping　of　the　pack；
  a　flashing　of　those　red　and　grizzled　jaws；　a　momentary　hurl　back
  of　the　onset；　and　again　he　stood　alone　and　braced；　the　grim　and
  grand　old　bandit　that　he　was。　Three　times　they　tried　and
  suffered。　Their　boldest　were　lying　about　him。　The　first　to　go
  down　was　the　Bulldog。　Learning　wisdom　now；　the　Dogs　held　back；
  less　sure；　but　his　square…built　chest　showed　never　a　sign　of
  weakness　yet；　and　after　waiting　impatiently　he　advanced　a　few
  steps；　and　thus；　alas！　gave　to　the　gunners　their　long…expected
  chance。　Three　rifles　rang；　and　in　the　snow　Garou　went　down　at
  last；　his　life　of　combat　done。
  He　had　made　his　choice。　His　days　were　short　and　crammed　with
  quick　events。　His　tale　of　many　peaceful　years　was　spent　in　three
  of　daily　brunt。　He　picked　his　trail；　a　new　trail；　high　and　short。
  He　chose　to　drink　his　cup　at　a　single　gulp；　and　break　the
  glass…but　he　left　a　deathless　name。
  Who　can　look　into　the　mind　of　the　Wolf？　Who　can　show　us　his
  wellspring　of　motive？　Why　should　he　still　cling　to　a　place　of
  endless　tribulation？　It　could　not　be　because　he　knew　no　other
  country；　for　the　region　is　limitless；　food　is　everywhere；　and　he
  was　known　at　least　as　far　as　Selkirk。　Nor　could　his　motive　be
  revenge。　No　animal　will　give　up　its　whole　life　to　seeking
  revenge；　that　evil　kind　of　mind　is　found　in　man　alone。　The　brute
  creation　seeks　for　peace。
  There　is　then　but　one　remaining　bond　to　chain　him；　and　that　the
  strongest　claim　that　anything　can　ownthe　mightiest　force　on
  earth。
  The　Wolf　is　gone。　The　last　relic　of　him　was　lost　in　the　burning
  Grammar　School；　but　to　this　day　the　sexton　of　St。　Boniface　Church
  avers　that　the　tolling　bell　on　Christmas　Eve　never　fails　to
  provoke　that　weird　and　melancholy　Wolf…cry　from　the　wooded
  graveyard　a　hundred　steps　away；　where　they　laid　his　Little　Jim；
  the　only　being　on　earth　that　ever　met　him　with　the　touch　of　love。
  THE　LEGEND　OF　THE　WHITE　REINDEER
  Skoal！　Skoal！　For　Norway　Skoal！
  Sing　ye　the　song　of　the　Vand…dam　troll。
  When　I　am　hiding
  Norway's　luck
  On　a　White　Storbuk
  Comes　riding；　riding。
  Bleak；　black；　deep；　and　cold　is　Utrovand；　a　long　pocket　of
  glacial　water；　a　crack　in　the　globe；　a　wrinkle　in　the　high
  Norwegian　mountains；　blocked　with　another　mountain；　and　flooded
  with　a　frigid　flood；　three　thousand　feet　above　its
  Mother　Sea；　and　yet　no　closer　to　its　Father　Sun。
  Around　its　cheerless　shore　is　a　belt　of　stunted　trees；　that　sends
  a　long　tail　up　the　high　valley；　till　it　dwindles　away　to　sticks
  and　moss；　as　it　also　does　some　half…way　up　the　granite　hills　that
  rise　a　thousand　feet；　encompassing　the　lake。　This　is　the　limit　of
  trees；　the　end　of　the　growth　of　wood。　The　birch　and　willow　are
  the　last　to　drop　out　of　the　long　fight　with　frost。　Their
  miniature　thickets　are　noisy　with　the　cries　of　Fieldfare；　Pipit；
  and　Ptarmigan；　but　these　are　left　behind　on　nearing　the　upper
  plateau；　where　shade　of　rock　and　sough　of　wind　are　all　that　take
  their　place。　The　chilly　Hoifjeld　rolls　away；　a　rugged；　rocky
  plain；　with　great　patches　of　snow　in　all　the　deeper　hollows；　and
  the　distance　blocked　by　snowy　peaks　that　rise　and　roll　and　whiter
  gleam；　till；　dim　and　dazzling　in　the　north；　uplifts　the
  Jotunheim；　the　home　of　spirits；　of　glaciers；　and　of　the　lasting
  snow。
  The　treeless　stretch　is　one　vast　attest　to　the　force　of　heat。
  Each　failure　of　the　sun　by　one　degree　is　marked　by　a　lower　realm
  of　life。　The　northern　slope　of　each　hollow　is　less　boreal　than
  its　southern　side。　The　pine　and　spruce　have　given　out　long　ago；
  the　mountain…ash　went　next；　the　birch　and　willow　climbed　up　half
  the　slope。　Here；　nothing　grows　but　creeping　plants　and　moss。　The
  plain　itself　is　pale　grayish　green；　one　vast　expanse　of
  reindeer…moss；　but　warmed　at　spots　into　orange　by　great　beds　of
  polytrichum；　and；　in　sunnier　nooks；　deepened　to　a　herbal　green。
  The　rocks　that　are　scattered　everywhere　are　of　a　delicate　lilac；
  but　each　is　variegated　with　spreading　frill…edged　plasters　of
  gray…green　lichen　or　orange　powder…streaks　and　beauty…spots　of
  black。　These　rocks　have　great　power　to　hold　the　heat；　so　that
  each　of　them　is　surrounded　by　a　little　belt　of　heat…loving　plants
  that　could　not　otherwise　live　so　high。　Dwarfed　representatives　of
  the　birch　and　willow　both　are　here；　hugging　the　genial　rock；　as
  an　old　French　habitant　hugs　his　stove　in　winter…time；　spreading
  their　branches　over　it；　instead　of　in　the　frigid　air。　A　foot　away
  is　seen　a　chillier　belt　of　heath；　and　farther　off；　colder；　where
  none　else　can　grow；　is　the　omnipresent　gray…green　reindeer…moss
  that　gives　its　color　to　the　upland。　The　hollows　are　still　filled
  with　snow；　though　now　it　is　June。　But　each　of　these　white
  expanses　is　shrinking；　spending　itself　in　ice…cold　streams　that
  somehow　reach　the　lake。　These　sn？flaks　show　no　sign　of　life；　not
  even　the　'red…snow'　tinge；　and　around　each　is　a　belt　of　barren
  earth；　to　testify　that　life　and　warmth　can　never　be　divorced。
  Birdless　and　lifeless；　the　gray…green　snow…pied　waste　extends
  over　all　the　stretch　that　is　here　between　the　timber…line　and　the
  snow…line；　above　which　winter　never　quits　its　hold。　Farther　north
  both　come　lower；　till　the　timber…line　is　at　the　level　of　the　sea；
  and　all　the　land　is　in　that　treeless　belt　called　Tundra　in　the
  Old　World；　and　Barrens　in　the　New；　and　that　everywhere　is　the
  Home　of　the　Reindeerthe　Real