Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-08-26
THE WOLVES.


/ crimson splashes OF lire ms the sun banh
below the horizon where tho snow lay
deem and unspotted, save by the multi
tudinous prints OF their own restless
feet-there, on the outskirts OF the
forest at the wa1ie OF day, tho wolves
were gathering themselves together
Hungry they were, and eager Tor work
to begin. There was no play AMONG
them, no ieaping over one anofhers
backs. or wrestling, or growing pre-
fences at fighting. They were on bust
pess-the first business OF life, to keer
life. and to keep life, il you happen To
be wolf, means hard work and plenty
of it, with but little time TO spare on
the amenities OF existence.
And now their old gray leaders-war,
riors who have survived many scene OF
death and disaster to man and wolf-lear
out together from the woods upon the
darkeninG plain. They raise their noses,
sniff the wind, and shake themselves.
One yawns and stretches his paws, while
a puff OF hot breath rises from his red
tongue, and rs he shuts his narrow jaws
with snap sharp canine teeth, white as
the snow itself, glitter in the dusk.
Then begins that long, slouching,
tireless trot, that internal gallop which
beats horse and man and all things liv-
ing for combined speed and endurance.
The pack covers nearly tiye-and-twenty
SQUARE wards OF snow, and settles into its
stride, each beast moving and turning
in union with the rest, as flight oil
birds mysteriously wheels in air. They
are Norway wolves these, and experience
has long since taught them what work
will be necessary before supper and
return to their forest Businesses.
Note what happens almost at the start:
One little brute suddenly slips and
strains his leg. Fearfully he glances al
his companions on the right and left. but
as yet they know not Of the accident.
All too soon, however, the pace tells
upon the injured animal. Nature asserts
herself in the great gray wolf, his eyes
glow like red.hot embers, bis sinewy leg
gives under him, he howls his farewell to
dear life, and his place in the ranks
knows him no more. But the manned
creatures suferings are over almost In
stantly, for the fittest alone survive IN
PACK of wolves. A ravenous fighting
mass OF fur and legs and teeth closes IL
upon him. and he is gone, leaving nc
monument more enduring than drops oil
his own hot blood, which have fallen and
melted for themselves deep holes in the
trampled snow.
Then forward they sweep, the canni'
balls on the best possible terms with one
another, and feeling as you would fee
after anchovy or an olive or some such
preliminary TO more important CASTRO
nomic efforts.
But now, ahead, there stands a soil
tary tree, naked save where, on its top
most banches, the dark pine needles
mingle in one shapeless clump, or where
lower down dead cones still cling to the
parent bough. In the rough bark at its
foot are fecks OF wool; but the sheep
which rub themselves there in the sum-
mer are far away just now. Some.
thing of greater interest meets the
wolves here. Along the snow at the base
OF this tree, and running at right angles
to the course they have till now been
taking, extend two parallel lines. cut by
the irons of q sIedge. One vehicle alone
has passed since the snow last fell, but II
appears to have gone by quite recently,
for the scent is strong and the pack take
it up without moments halt Now sup
per becomes probability, for where
there is a sledge there is horse, per
hsps two where there is q sledge there
is also man, possibly more than one.
Have you ever heard the bowling oil
wolves =?
L have, seated in q comfortable place
of entertainment, with my mind at ease
and certain knowledge that many iron
bars separated me from the invisible
howlers. Even under those circum-
stances the sound was one that made
me turn cold and wonder how nature
had produced anything SO hideous. II
is like nothing but itself; you cannot
compare or contrast it with any other
cry Of living things; gale OF wind IN
the rigging Of big ship at sea is the
nearest approach to it / know. Thin,
hollow walls of sound grow and swell
and burst into one demoniac how
that embodies in its volume every
conceivable note OF despair and eternal
torture. Then the crescendo dies, some
times as though suddenly strangled,
more often in long-drawn shrieks that
fade upon the ear. There is music in
their cadence at times those that j
heard were fairly in tune-but such @
tune, such droning, fiendish, whirling
blast Of melody it was II the neither
world has its own music, that music
should be the howl of hungry wolves
the frantic chorus whose elimination is
death to flying singers or fleeing au-
dience, or both.
So much for the wolves know; SO
much for wolves whose hearts are broken
and whose sides have ached often under
the heavy whip o. their master. So
much for tame wolves who do clumsy
tricks and have learned the beauty OF
obedience, forgetting at tho same time
the watchword of all wolves-that union
is strength. Return me to my pack,
which is moving like one big machine,
and the component parts OF which are
together giving tongue.
The snow for them is in perfect order,
but somebody ahead may perchance
find his horses crushing through the
thin frozen surface ct every stride. The
darkness suits the hunters well, but
somebody ahead may be praying for that
moonlight which at present only shows
silver iringes on black cloud. TO them
their wolf music is the dinner-golg, but
somebody ahead may hear nothing more
beautiful than his own passing bell in
the distant mutations, rising and falling
and coming over the snow.
Fortunately thought and pen travel
quicker even than gray wolves, there
fore--though not knowing with certainty
whether it can catch us again before the
end of the story-we will leave the
racing pack and draw level with the
sledge.
Here it is. sure enough, ploughing
through the snow and spinning out those
two parallel lines as it goes. The stout
brown horses are galloping steadily, and
the solitary nan sitting behind them
does not use whip or word at present.
He must be some miles nearer home ere