The Wolfs Long Howl | Page 2

when he could not shut out
from his ears the howling of the wolf. He often wondered, jeering the
while at his own grotesque fancy, how his neighbors could sleep with
those mournful yet sinister howlings burdening the air, but he became
convinced at last that no one heard the melancholy solo but himself.
"'The wolf's long howl on Oonalaska's shore' is not in it with that of
mine," said George Henry--for since his coat had become threadbare

his language had deteriorated, and he too frequently used slang--"but
I'm thankful that I alone hear my own. How different the case from
what it is when one's dog barks o' nights! Then the owner is the only
one who sleeps within a radius of blocks. The beasts are decidedly
unlike."
Not suddenly had come all this tribulation to the man, though the final
disappearance of all he was worth, save some valueless remnants, had
been preceded by two or three heavy losses. Optimistic in his ventures,
he was not naturally a fool. Ill fortune had come to him without
apparent provocation, as it comes to many another man of intelligence,
and had followed him persistently and ruthlessly when others less
deserving were prospering all about him. It was not astonishing that he
had become a trifle misanthropic. He found it difficult to recover from
the daze of the moment when he first realized his situation.
The comprehension of where he stood first came to George Henry
when he had a note to meet, a note for a sum that would not in the past
have seemed large to him, but one at that time assuming dimensions of
importance. He thought when he had given the note that he could meet
it handily; he had twice succeeded in renewing it, and now had come to
the time when he must raise a certain sum or be counted among the
wreckage. He had been hopeful, but found himself on the day of
payment without money and without resources. How many thousands
of men who have engaged in our tigerish dollar struggle have felt the
sinking at heart which came to him then! But he was a man, and he
went to work. Talk about climbing the Alps or charging a battery! The
man who has hurried about all day with reputation to be sustained, even
at the sacrifice of pride, has suffered more, dared more and knows more
of life's terrors than any reckless mountain-climber or any veteran
soldier in existence. George Henry failed at last. He could not meet his
bills.
Reason to himself as he might, the man was unable to endure his new
condition placidly. He tried to be philosophical. He would stalk about
his room humming from "The Mahogany Tree":
"Care, like a dun, stands at the gate. Let the dog wait!"

and seek to get himself into the spirit of the words, but his efforts in
such direction met with less than moderate success. "The dog does
wait," he would mutter. "He's there all the time. Besides, he isn't a dog:
he's a wolf. What did Thackeray know about wolves!" And so George
Henry brooded, and was, in consequence, not quite as fit for the fray as
he had been in the past.
To make matters worse, there was a woman in the case; not that women
always make matters worse when a man is in trouble, but in this
instance the fact that a certain one existed really caused the
circumstances to be more trying. There was a charming young woman
in whom George Henry had taken more than a casual interest. There
was reason to suppose that the interest was not all his, either, but there
had been no definite engagement. At the time when financial disaster
came to the man, there had grown up between him and Sylvia Hartley
that sort of understanding which cannot be described, but which is
recognized clearly enough, and which is to the effect that flowers bring
fruit. Now he felt glad, for her sake, that only the flower season had
been reached. They were yet unpledged. Since he could not support a
wife, he must give up his love. That was a matter of honor.
The woman was quite worthy of a man's love. She was clever and good.
She had dark hair and a wonderfully white skin, and dark, bright eyes,
and when he explained to her that he was a wreck financially, and said
that in consequence he didn't feel justified in demanding so much of her
attention, she exhibited in a gentle way a warmth of temperament
which endeared her to him more than ever, while she argued with him
and tried to laugh him out of his fears. He was tempted sorely, but he
loved her in