But one night, a farmer who was new to the frontier saw the huge wolf near his chicken yard. The farmer put his shotgun against his shoulder and aimed.

Johnny Appleseed cried out to stop the farmer, but it was too late. The gun thundered, and the pet wolf leaped into the air as the shot hit its heart. The wolf fell back to earth and lay still.

Johnny sat for a long while beside his dead companion, stroking the thick fur. He looked up into the sky, seeking some brightness to drive away the gray sorrow he felt. But the sky was clouded over, without stars.

Johnny dug a grave for Brother Wolf by the side of a creek. After he had covered his old faithful friend with soft earth, he reached into his pouch of apple seeds. He found the brightest, smoothest seeds of all, and carefully planted them around the grave.

Today, people say the spot is filled with apple trees with trunks as big as the legs of elephants. And they say that, in spring, the blossoms are so thick a bee can scarcely fly between them.

After the wolf died, Johnny went on alone, still giving away apple seeds, and still planting orchards. The owls followed him at night, and even the shy deer would come out to meet him on the woodland trails at morning. But none stayed with him night and day as the gentle black wolf had done.

Even though he felt lonely, Johnny was happy. Wherever he stopped, he handed out his seeds and preached about the beauty of things. He also preached about the needs for kindness, especially to animals. When settlers had horses too old to work any more, or too lame to be of use, they sometimes turned these horses out into the woods to die. When Johnny came across these animals, he took care of them and found them new homes.