This was the cause of the great final hunt that they fixed for
Christmas Day just two years after the scene at the grave of Little
Jim. It seemed as though all the Dogs in the country were brought
together. The three Huskies were there--the Factor considered them
essential--there were Danes and trailers and a rabble of farm Dogs and
nondescripts. They spent the morning beating all the woods east of St.
Boniface and had no success. But a telephone message came that the
trail they sought had been seen near the Assiniboine woods west of the
city, and an hour later the hunt was yelling on the hot scent of the
Winnipeg Wolf.
Away they went, a rabble of Dogs, a motley rout of horsemen, a mob of
men and boys on foot. Garou had no fear of the Dogs, but men he knew
had guns and were dangerous. He led off for the dark timber line of the
Assiniboine, but the horsemen had open country and they headed him
back. He coursed along the Colony Creek hollow and so eluded the
bullets already flying. He made for a barb-wire fence, and passing that
he got rid of the horsemen for a time, but still must keep the hollow
that baffled the bullets. The Dogs were now closing on him. All he
might have asked would probably have been to be left alone with
them--forty or fifty to one as they were--he would have taken the odds.
The Dogs were all around him now, but none dared to close in, A lanky
Hound, trusting to his speed, ran alongside at length and got a side
chop from Garou that laid him low. The horsemen were forced to take a
distant way around, but now the chase was toward the town, and more men
and Dogs came running out to join the fray.
The Wolf turned toward the slaughter-house, a familiar resort, and the
shooting ceased on account of the houses, as well as the Dogs, being so
near. These were indeed now close enough to encircle him and hinder all
further flight. He looked for a place to guard his rear for a final
stand, and seeing a wooden foot-bridge over a gutter he sprang in,
there faced about and held the pack at bay. The men got bars and
demolished the bridge. He leaped out, knowing now that he had to die,
but ready, wishing only to make a worthy fight, and then for the first
time in broad day view of all his foes he stood--the shadowy
Dog-killer, the disembodied voice of St. Boniface woods, the wonderful
Winnipeg Wolf.