bet on him at any odds.
âBut when the gate opened on that cage and the wolf got up, they stopped talking. Even then, without food or water for days, even with his head hanging down like he didnât have the strength to lift it, that wolf was a magnificent animal. He stumbled into the arena and started looking around like he was calculating some way to get out of there.â¦
âThe dog just stood stock still like he didnât even see that wolf. And then, when the crowd was so quiet you could hear those two animals breathing, then the stranger leaned over the edge of the arena and said, âKill.â Just like he was passing the time talking about the weather, he said, âKill.â
âThat dog headed for the wolf like there was nothing in the world he hated more. He was all teeth and muscle and bone, and he meant to kill himself a wolf.
âThe wolf sidestepped the first rush kind of clumsy, like, and the dog crashed into the wall like he meant to go clear through it. Then he swung around real fast, faster than you would think a dog like that could move, and lunged again.
âThe wolf was moving a little better by then. Maybe heâd worked the stiffness out of his muscles after having laid in that cage for so long, but it seemed that he was pulling strength straight from the earth like that Greek wrestler who got up good as new every time he was thrown down.
âIt must have gone on for five or ten minutes: the dog trying to get hold of the wolf, pin him against the wall, and the wolf always slipping away, just kind of gliding around that ring.
âIt seemed kind of funny then, because I didnât know what he was up to, but the wolf seemed more interested in the people around the ring than he was in the dog that was trying to kill him. Then he saw Charley. He kind of stopped. That was just the opening the dog had been waiting for. He hit that wolf with his shoulder and knocked him clear into the wall. He was on him in a second.
âThere they were, jaw to jaw, and the men screaming. They wanted to see the kill. The money didnât matter to them then. They just wanted to see those animals tear each other to pieces.
âFor a minute, it looked like the mastiff was going to do just that, but the wolf got out from under that killer dog. I donât know how he did it, but he did. And on his way up, he reached under that dog and gutted him. Iâd never seen anything like that. That big old mastiff was standing there on his own guts, whining.
âThe stranger was screaming for a gun, and olâ Charley was yelling that nobody was going to kill his wolf. But the stranger didnât want to kill the wolf, he wanted to kill his dog. He wanted to put that magnificent animal out of its misery.
âSomething like that would never occur to olâ Charley, so they were yelling and wrestling with each other. Finally, the stranger shoved Charley, and I guess thatâs what saved his life.â
Flynn stopped again and took another pull on the bottle. It was then that Nash felt the silence, the rapt attention of the men in the crowd. Every eye was riveted on the old Irishman. No one moved. No one drank. Flynnâs eyes peered into the icy dark, seeing things his listeners could scarcely imagine. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper.
âThat wolf had been waiting for Charley to get within reach, and when the scuffle took Charley to the edge of the arena, that wolf went up the wall like he was just as accustomed to running straight up as he was to running flat out. When he got up as high as he could go, he took a swipe at Charley with teeth that looked like they could split a cowâs hind leg. It was just then that the stranger shoved Charley, and the wolf missed Charleyâs throat, but his arm was laid open to the bone. I saw it! I was standing there, and I saw the whole thing!
âBy then the stranger had a rifle, and he put a bullet through the
âBut when the gate opened on that cage and the wolf got up, they stopped talking. Even then, without food or water for days, even with his head hanging down like he didnât have the strength to lift it, that wolf was a magnificent animal. He stumbled into the arena and started looking around like he was calculating some way to get out of there.â¦
âThe dog just stood stock still like he didnât even see that wolf. And then, when the crowd was so quiet you could hear those two animals breathing, then the stranger leaned over the edge of the arena and said, âKill.â Just like he was passing the time talking about the weather, he said, âKill.â
âThat dog headed for the wolf like there was nothing in the world he hated more. He was all teeth and muscle and bone, and he meant to kill himself a wolf.
âThe wolf sidestepped the first rush kind of clumsy, like, and the dog crashed into the wall like he meant to go clear through it. Then he swung around real fast, faster than you would think a dog like that could move, and lunged again.
âThe wolf was moving a little better by then. Maybe heâd worked the stiffness out of his muscles after having laid in that cage for so long, but it seemed that he was pulling strength straight from the earth like that Greek wrestler who got up good as new every time he was thrown down.
âIt must have gone on for five or ten minutes: the dog trying to get hold of the wolf, pin him against the wall, and the wolf always slipping away, just kind of gliding around that ring.
âIt seemed kind of funny then, because I didnât know what he was up to, but the wolf seemed more interested in the people around the ring than he was in the dog that was trying to kill him. Then he saw Charley. He kind of stopped. That was just the opening the dog had been waiting for. He hit that wolf with his shoulder and knocked him clear into the wall. He was on him in a second.
âThere they were, jaw to jaw, and the men screaming. They wanted to see the kill. The money didnât matter to them then. They just wanted to see those animals tear each other to pieces.
âFor a minute, it looked like the mastiff was going to do just that, but the wolf got out from under that killer dog. I donât know how he did it, but he did. And on his way up, he reached under that dog and gutted him. Iâd never seen anything like that. That big old mastiff was standing there on his own guts, whining.
âThe stranger was screaming for a gun, and olâ Charley was yelling that nobody was going to kill his wolf. But the stranger didnât want to kill the wolf, he wanted to kill his dog. He wanted to put that magnificent animal out of its misery.
âSomething like that would never occur to olâ Charley, so they were yelling and wrestling with each other. Finally, the stranger shoved Charley, and I guess thatâs what saved his life.â
Flynn stopped again and took another pull on the bottle. It was then that Nash felt the silence, the rapt attention of the men in the crowd. Every eye was riveted on the old Irishman. No one moved. No one drank. Flynnâs eyes peered into the icy dark, seeing things his listeners could scarcely imagine. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper.
âThat wolf had been waiting for Charley to get within reach, and when the scuffle took Charley to the edge of the arena, that wolf went up the wall like he was just as accustomed to running straight up as he was to running flat out. When he got up as high as he could go, he took a swipe at Charley with teeth that looked like they could split a cowâs hind leg. It was just then that the stranger shoved Charley, and the wolf missed Charleyâs throat, but his arm was laid open to the bone. I saw it! I was standing there, and I saw the whole thing!
âBy then the stranger had a rifle, and he put a bullet through the
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