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Updated: May 25, 2025
Indeed, it would have been done already but for the strain that the Wolf kept on the chain. The thought of being in the yard at the mercy of the huge animal that he had so enraged, gave the brave Paul a thrill of terror. Jim's wheedling voice was heard "Hold on now, Wolfie; back up just a little, and you shall have him.
Now do; there's a good Wolfie" that was enough; the Fiddler fled and carefully closed all doors behind him. Thus the friendship between Jim and his pet grew stronger, and the Wolf, as he developed his splendid natural powers, gave daily evidence also of the mortal hatred he bore to men that smelt of whiskey and to all Dogs, the causes of his sufferings.
Lucky I waked up first of this crowd. If somebody had sat down on Wolfie now by mistake, there might have been trouble. Guess I'll look about me." He shook himself free from the cloak and sauntered out on the platform. The gray dawn was just glimmering over the frozen earth, the world looked snowy and icy and desolate. On swept the train, and not a familiar object met his eye.
This remark was addressed to his companion as the two passed into the next car. Tode chuckled outright this time; he had a new idea. "That's the talk," he informed himself. "I'm his servant; just it prezackly much obliged. I hadn't thought of that arrangement before, but I like the plan first rate. Maybe Wolfie and I will get another night or so together by the means."
Hum!" he chuckled. "How are you, Wolfie? How've you been? You and me is friends, we is. We're travelers, we are. Now, we'll have a tall sleep. Ain't this just the jolliest thing, though?" Then Tode went to sleep. By and by he felt a jerking. He roused up, the car lamps were burning dim. Mr.
The fever had seemed slight at first, so that every one was shocked when there came suddenly a turn for the worse, and three days before Christmas Jimmie died. He had no more sincere mourner than his "Wolfie." The great gray creature howled in miserable answer to the church-bell tolling when he followed the body on Christmas Eve to the graveyard at St. Boniface.
Hastings ought to pay his fare since he belonged to him. Arrived at the depot, and Mr. Hastings' baggage properly disposed of, himself paid, and supposed to be dismissed, Tode was in a quandary. Here was the train, and on it he meant to travel; but how to manage it was another question. It was broad daylight; sleep and Wolfie couldn't serve him now.
Hastings, muffled to the throat in furs, and with the identical "Wolfie" thrown over his arm newly lined indeed in brilliant red, but recognized in an instant by its soft peculiar fur, and familiar to Theodore as the face of an old friend. Instantly his memory traveled back to the scenes connected with that long-ago and well-remembered journey when "Wolfie" proved such a faithful friend to him.
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, but he was very old-fashioned, as well as a rude little boy. He had been brought up in a low saloon, and had been an apt pupil at picking up the vile talk of the place.
"He didn't ask Wolfie for his ticket," giggled Tode. "I reckon he don't know he's alive, no more don't the man that thinks he owns him. I say now, what if he gets a cold streak, and wants to borrow Wolfie for himself after a spell? Poh!" he added after a minute, "it's easy enough to get out the way I came in; but it will be time enough to do it when I have to.
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