Brown Wolf and Other Jack London Stories: Chosen and Edited By Franklin K. MathiewsLondon, Jack
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Brown Wolf and Other Jack London Stories: Chosen and Edited By Franklin K. Mathiews
London, Jack
Short stories; Wolves -- Fiction
Jim looked at him keenly under the street lamp of the next crossing, and
saw that his face was a trifle grim and that he carried his left arm
peculiarly.
"What's the matter with your arm?" he demanded.
"The little cuss bit me. Hope I don't get hydrophoby. Folks gets
hydrophoby from man-bite sometimes, don't they?"
"Gave you a fight, eh!" Jim asked encouragingly.
The other grunted.
"You're certainly hard to get information from," Jim burst out
irritably. "Tell us about it. You ain't goin' to lose money just
a-tellin' a guy."
"I guess I choked him some," came the answer. Then, by way of
explanation, "He woke up on me."
"You did it neat. I never heard a sound."
"Jim," the other said with seriousness, "it's a hangin' matter. I fixed
'm. I had to. He woke up on me. You an' me's got to do some layin' low
for a spell."
Jim gave a low whistle of comprehension.
"Did you hear me whistle!" he asked suddenly.
"Sure. I was all done. I was just comin' out."
"It was a bull. But he wasn't on a little bit. Went right by an' kept
a-paddin' the hoof outa sight. Then I came back an' gave you the
whistle. What made you take so long after that?"
"I was waitin' to make sure," Matt explained.
"I was mighty glad when I heard you whistle again. It's hard work
waitin'. I just sat there an' thought an' thought ... oh, all kinds of
things. It's remarkable what a fellow'll think about. And then there
was a darn cat that kept movin' around the house an' botherin' me with
its noises."
"An' it's fat!" Jim exclaimed irrelevantly and with joy.
"I'm sure tellin' you, Jim, it's fat. I'm plum' anxious for another look
at 'em."
Unconsciously the two men quickened their pace. Yet they did not relax
from their caution. Twice they changed their course in order to avoid
policemen, and they made very sure that they were not observed when they
dived into the dark hallway of a cheap rooming house down town.
Not until they had gained their own room on the top floor, did they
scratch a match. While Jim lighted a lamp, Matt locked the door and
threw the bolts into place. As he turned, he noticed that his partner
was waiting expectantly. Matt smiled to himself at the other's
eagerness.
"Them search-lights is all right," he said, drawing forth a small pocket
electric lamp and examining it. "But we got to get a new battery. It's
runnin' pretty weak. I thought once or twice it'd leave me in the dark.
Funny arrangements in that house. I near got lost. His room was on the
left, an' that fooled me some."
"I told you it was on the left," Jim interrupted.
"You told me it was on the right," Matt went on. "I guess I know what
you told me, an' there's the map you drew."
Fumbling in his vest pocket, he drew out a folded slip of paper. As he
unfolded it, Jim bent over and looked.
"I did make a mistake," he confessed.
"You sure did. It got me guessin' some for a while."
"But it don't matter now," Jim cried. "Let's see what you got."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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