The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1879-11-13
JOE, THE WOLF.
A Tragic Episode Of the Sage Brush.

utNc6-CaIU mOule me0, WHO m6ue IL tne1I
headquarters, kept tho otherwise peace
full village in fcrncnt of wild excite
Ment. The course Of these reckless deni-
Gems was marked by periodical shooting
scrapes, frequent fistic encounters, and
continuous drunken bouts.
Half DOING, one day, in saloon, was
aroused by the remark, most emphatlcal-
~ delivered, "It's fourteen inches be-
tween my eyes, and I smell like wolfv'
The speaker, large, magnihcently pro
portioned ruf1ian, supplemented the Pc
culiar description of himself with, "Pards,
come an drink2" With the exception of
myself, every man in the room gathered
around the bar, addressing tho powerful
stander Of treats as Joe. The glasses
were filed and tipped, when he turned
and noticed me. I saw the quick, wick
ed flash of anger in his eyes. After a
momentary survey, he broke silence, and
this tcrse dialogue followed:
Eyer from the city, amt yert"
II am"
"Yer don't know me, do yer:'
II don't'
stake drink an git AGO uainted. then. "
"DOn't drink
'Smokc, them
"Don't smoke
"Do yer shoot?'
"Not worth a continental
My years OF assurance acquired US u
correspondent, ana my knowledge Of ag-
grcssive characters, did not prevent rue
Of feeling some uneasiness as observed
my intcrrogater's dextrous fingers slide
to his belt and grasp the hilt Of his wits.
tier. An unpleasant termination Of the
conversation was avoided by the appear
ance Of a woman, who stepped from the
overland train, just then arrived, and d.
rected her steps toward the saloon. She
was rather comedy looking female of
thirty-eight or more, and evidently ill
and suffering from the effects ofan cx-
tended debauch. Joe stared ut her, as
one )ooks at the arisen dead for moment,
and then walked quickly to the door
threw himself into the saddle, and rode
away. As he passed the woman, she lift
ed her hands impleringly toward him
and fell to the earth unconscious. She
was borne to the hotel, and the kind wo-
men Of the village did what they could
for her. She spoke no word when re-
covered from her swoon, but lay quietly,
unmindful of Ter life fast cbbing away.
During the day l inquired of Broken
nosed Charley, who knew everything and
everybody about the farm. regarding the
man Joe. Charley said that little was
known Of him except that he mined some
gambled some, drank like mad and was
altogether bad lot. He had killed two
or three men, and had been shot and cut
himself several times. He invariably
preceded an invitation to 'imbibe, or The
shooting OF man, by the expression, s'It's
fourteen inches between my eyes, and
smell like WOLF" From this idiosyn.
crazy and his bloed-thirsty disposition
he was known and dreaded as sThc
Wolf" Prudent people however, address.
ed him as Joe.
The Wolf returned to town the next
day, and, on entering the saloon from
which he had made his hurried exit, qui.
city asked:
HAS that ar woman gone9'
He was told that she was sick and
could live but very short time. A great
change came over his face; the hard fur.
rows Of dissipation and crime were trans.
formed to tie pitiable lines of sorrow
Not noticing the dram profte.ed by the
bar-keeper, he fastened to the hotel and
made his way to the bedside of the dying
woman. Abruptly he questioned:
"Was yer followering hint"
mo, Joe; I was hunting him.
"Sure?"
$50 help me God!"
The poor White face, scared and deep
scanned by excuses and sin, grew radiant
with gladness as Joe kneelcd down an6
kissed her. With seal Of forgiveness
with the pressure Of his lips but half re-
turned, she sank back dead.
Through the service at the simple
buria. the following day Joe stood will
uncovered head, but hif bronzed and i'm
movable features betrayed no emotion
nor vouchsafed any clue to tho mystcr,
that enshrouded the confined outcas,
and himself.
The evening Of the funeral the VOL
called on me at my rooms. Seating him
self, without preface lie said:
"As man of sense an no coward, vel
kin look at brave mans agony in tn,
right way. The past I've hidden 70,
twenty years, fur l amt the kind to car
r. my heart on my sleeve fur davis t
peck at. But thar's feeling a. though
I'd choke if I didn't talk to some one
The woman buried to-dar var nv wife
Here's some letters the wimin folks founc
ON her an give to me. Yer look then
over while l chin fur lin slow on tn.
read. We war married in tho States
when shs war sixteen an I just come O
s~. A bit after I got the gold fever an
went to Californy. In couple Of year
made quite pile, am went home flu
her. She var changed, and it warm
long befoge ! beard the stories IN fount
the truth, tibet sbe had gone wroag. ii
,var Ane. hsirai 4: ehai. mo he 4 rn.SA so