Wolf-Coursing 



a wolf, when Maje, who had ridden off a mile 

 to our right, was seen upon a butte wildly 

 waving his hat. We instinctively knew that 

 game was afoot, and, as he disappeared, we 

 commenced a wild stampede for the butte. 

 Steamboat, with slips and reins in one hand 

 and blacksnake whip in the other, came 

 thundering after us, lashing his team into a 

 wild, mad run — and how he managed to hold 

 himself and dogs on the bounding buckboard 

 was a mystery to me. Reaching the butte, we 

 espied Maje a mile away, riding for dear life. 

 It did not take long to decide, from the gener- 

 al direction taken, that the wolf would shortly 

 return to us. Keeping well back out of sight, 

 we impatiently awaited his return, and, had 

 it not been for the pure malignity of my 

 broncho, the wolf would have doubled back 

 within a few hundred yards of us, and a close 

 race have resulted. 



I had taken the dogs from Steamboat, and, 

 with the release cord of the slips around my 

 wrist, sat in the saddle ready to sight and slip 

 the dogs. Becoming impatient under the re- 

 straint, the dogs ran behind my horse, and, as 

 the strap of the slips got under his tail, he 

 again commenced bucking, and before I could 



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