audience there were always some spectators hopefully
pessimistic, who vowed that the great wolf would some day turn upon
his master and tear his throat. To be sure, Lone Wolf was not by any
means the only beast whom the backwoodsman had performing for the
delectation of his audiences. But all the others--the lions, the
leopards, the tiger, the elephant, the two zebras, and the white
bear--seemed really subdued, as it were hypnotized into harmlessness.
It was Lone Wolf only who kept the air of having never yielded up his
spirit, of being always, in some way, not the slave but the free
collaborator.

Ordinarily, in spite of the wild fire smouldering in his veins, Lone
Wolf was well enough content. The show was so big and so important
that it was accustomed to visit only the great centres, and to make
long stops at each place. At such times his life contained some
measure of freedom. He would be given a frequent chance of exercise,
in some secure enclosure where he could run, and jump, and stretch his
mighty muscles, and breathe deep. And not infrequently--after dark as
a rule--his master would snap a massive chain upon his collar, and
lead him out, on leash like a dog, into the verdurous freshness of
park or country lane. But when the show was on tour, then it was very
different. Lone Wolf hated fiercely the narrow cage in which he had to
travel. He hated the harsh, incessant noise of the grinding rails, the
swaying and lurching of the trucks, the dizzying procession of the
landscape past the barred slits which served as windows to his car.
Moreover, sometimes the unwieldy length of the circus train would be
halted for an hour or two on some forest siding, to let the regular
traffic of the line go by. Then, as his wondering eyes caught glimpses
of shadowed glades, and mysterious wooded aisles, and far-off hills
and horizons, or wild, pungent smells of fir thicket and cedar swamp
drew in upon the wind to his uplifted nostrils, his veins would run
hot with an uncomprehended but savage longing for delights which he
had never known, for a freedom of which he had never learned or
guessed. At such times his muscles would ache and quiver, till he felt
like dashing himself blindly against his bars. And if the halt
happened to take place at night, with perhaps a white moon staring in
upon him from over a naked hill-top, he would lift his lean muzzle
straight up toward the roof of his cage and give utterance to a
terrible sound of