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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
165
In
plain
view
was
a
great
rabble
of
Dogs,
large
and
small,
black,
white,
and
yellow,
wriggling
and
heaving
this
way
and
that
way
in
a
rude
ring;
to
one
side
was
a
little
yellow
Dog
stretched
and
quiet
in
the
snow;
on
the
outer
part
of
the
ring
was
a
huge
black
Dog
bounding
about
and
barking,
but
keeping
ever
behind
the
moving
mob.
And
in
the
midst,
the
centre
and
cause
of
it
all,
was
a
great,
grim,
Wolf.
Wolf?
He
looked
like
a
Lion.
There
he
stood,
all
alone--resolute-calm--with
bristling
mane,
and
legs
braced
firmly,
glancing
this
way
and
that,
to
be
ready
for
an
attack
in
any
direction.
There
was
a
curl
on
his
lips--it
looked
like
scorn,
but
I
suppose
it
was
really
the
fighting
snarl
of
tooth
display.
Led
by
a
wolfish-looking
Dog
that
should
have
been
ashamed,
the
pack
dashed
in,
for
the
twentieth
time
no
doubt.
But
the
great
gray
form
leaped
here
and
there,
and
chop,
chop,
chop
went
those
fearful
jaws,
no
other
sound
from
the
lonely
warrior;
but
a
death
yelp
from
more
than
one
of
his
foes,
as
those
that
were
able
again
sprang
back,
and
left
him
statuesque
as
before,
untamed,
unmaimed,
and
contemptuous
of
them
all.
How
I
wished
for
the
train
to
stick
in
a
snowdrift
now,
as
so
often
before,
for
all
my
heart
went
out
to
that
Gray-wolf;
I
longed
to
go
and
help
him.
But
the
snow-deep
glade
flashed
by,
the
poplar
trunks
shut
out
the
view,
and
we
went
on
to
our
journey's
end.
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