his instinctive knowledge of the wild kindreds had
won him a success which presently sickened him. His heart revolted
against the slaughter of the creatures which he found so interesting,
and for a time, his occupation gone, he had drifted aimlessly about
the settlements. Then, at the performance of a travelling circus,
which boasted two trained bears and a little trick elephant, he had
got his cue. It was borne in upon him that he was meant to be an
animal trainer. Then and there he joined the circus at a nominal wage,
and within six months found himself an acknowledged indispensable. In
less than a year he had become a well-known trainer, employed in one
of the biggest menageries of America. Not only for his wonderful
comprehension and command of animals was he noted, but also for his
pose, to which he clung obstinately, of giving his performances always
in the homespun garb of a backwoodsman, instead of in the conventional
evening dress.

"Lone Wolf!" It seemed a somewhat imaginative name for the prison-born
whelp, but as he grew out of cub-hood his character and his stature
alike seemed to justify it. Influenced by the example of his gentle
foster-mother, he was docility itself toward his tamer, whom he came
to love well after the reticent fashion of his race. But toward all
others, man and beast alike, his reserve was cold and dangerous.
Toomey, apparently, absorbed all the affection which his lonely nature
had to spare. In return for this singleness of regard, Toomey trained
him with a firm patience which never forgot to be kind, and made him,
by the time he was three years old, quite the cleverest and most
distinguished performing wolf who had ever adorned a show.

He was now as tall as the very tallest Great Dane, but with a depth of
shoulder and chest, a punishing length and strength of jaw, that no
dog ever could boast. When he looked at Toomey, his eyes wore the
expression of a faithful and understanding follower; but when he
answered the stares of the crowd through the bars of his cage, the
greenish fire that flamed in their inscrutable depths was ominous and
untamed. In all save his willing subjection to Toomey's mastery, he
was a true wolf, of the savage and gigantic breed of the Northwestern
timber. To the spectators this was aggressively obvious; and therefore
the marvel of seeing this sinister gray beast, with the murderous
fangs, so submissive to Toomey's gentlest bidding, never grew stale.
In every