GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM “OLD PUT” The picturesque wolf-slayer, a brave and sterling Patriot. JOHN FISKE There was a generosity and buoyancy about the brave old man, that made him a favourite throughout the Army; especially with the younger officers, who spoke of him familiarly and fondly as “Old Put.” WASHINGTON IRVING General ISRAEL PUTNAM was born in Massachusetts, January 7, 1718 Moved to Connecticut, 1740 Left his plough to fight at Bunker Hill, 1775 He died, May 29, 1790. SEEING BOSTON It was before the War for Independence. A country boy in rough homespun clothes was walking along the streets of Boston. He was staring at the shop signs and windows. It was his first visit to the big city. He had never seen such interesting things before. The boy was Israel Putnam, the son of a farmer. A city boy, much bigger than Putnam, saw him wandering about staring curiously at everything. He thought that it would be safe to bully such a raw-looking boy. Stepping up to Putnam, he began to make fun of his coarse clothes and his awkward walk. Putnam stood it as long as he could, for though he was known as a fighter at home, he never provoked a quarrel. But now, as he saw a crowd gathering which seemed to enjoy his humiliation, his blood rose. He turned on the big boy, and gave him such a drubbing that the crowd cheered with delight. The boy slunk off, and Putnam walked away and had no more annoyance. That was the kind of boy--and man too--Israel Putnam was; slow to anger; but when once roused by injustice, nothing could hold him back. THE FIGHT WITH THE WOLF Israel Putnam grew older, married, and went to live in Connecticut. He had a stock farm. One winter, wolves began to kill his animals. There was a she-wolf, particularly fierce and ravenous, who had lost the toes of one foot. She attacked and devoured animals for miles around. During a single night Putnam lost seventy fine sheep and goats, besides having many lambs and kids badly torn. In the morning he found around the fold the tracks of the she-wolf’s toeless foot. Putnam and some of his neighbours traced her to a cave about five miles away. Then they returned home. The next morning they started out with dogs, guns, and brimstone. The dogs chased the wolf into her cave, but came running out again torn and yelping. Putnam and the men built a fire in the cave-entrance. They threw on brimstone which gave out choking fumes. They threw on straw which made a thick smoke. But there were no signs of the wolf. All was quiet in the cave. It grew to be nearly ten o’clock at night. Putnam tried once more to make his dog enter the cave, but he would not stir. Putnam, then, asked his negro man to go in and shoot the beast. But the black man, shivering with fright, refused to crawl in.