THE WOLF HUNTERS 



Kitchen's freighting train from New Mexico was 

 on the road, going in empty, and would pass 

 Fort Larned in a few days, and had decided that 

 if we could not get Weisselbaum up to our figures, 

 we would ship them in that way. 



After an early dinner, Tom and Jack had started 

 for the fort with the mule team, taking a partial 

 load of the last of our wolfskins a half dozen 

 bales and some camp plunder. 



I do not think that my comrades were as much 

 alarmed as I was at the thought of the hostiles 

 dropping in on us. They seemed to be borrowing 

 no trouble on that account and, for fear of being 

 ridiculed by them for my cowardly fears, I had 

 kept my thoughts on this subject to myself. 



On this day we had all seemed unusually jolly; 

 even Tom's grim features occasionally relaxed into 

 a pleasant smile at some sally from our wild Irish- 

 man. Our spirits were high, for we had grown 

 tired of buffalo hunting and wolf skinning, with all 

 the attendant hardships and excitements, and were 

 now eager to get back into "God's country" with 

 our profitable cargo of skins, to reap the reward of 

 our winter's hard work. 



As I stood looking after Tom and Jack as they 

 drove away, I thought: "To-morrow they'll be 

 back, and the next morning we'll load up the last 

 of our camp outfit and will soon be beyond the 

 reach of Satank and his crowd." 



While still standing on top of our dugout 

 244 



