The Range 



violent commotion under me subsided; I once more 

 felt the saddle, and then I realized that Spot had 

 been content to stop alongside of Jones, tossing his 

 head and champing his bit. 



&quot;Well, by George! I didn t know you were in 

 the stretch,&quot; cried my companion. &quot; That was a fine 

 little brush. We must have come several miles. I d 

 have killed those wolves if I d brought a gun. The 

 big one that had the calf was a bold brute. He 

 never let go until I was within fifty feet of him. 

 Then I almost rode him down. I don t think the 

 calf was much hurt. But those blood-thirsty devils 

 will return, and like as not get the calf. That s 

 the worst of cattle raising. Now, take the buffalo. 

 Do you suppose those wolves could have gotten a 

 buffalo calf out from under the mother? Never. 

 Neither could a whole band of wolves. Buffalo stick 

 close together, and the little ones do not stray. When 

 danger threatens, the herd closes in and faces it and 

 fights. That is what is grand about the buffalo and 

 what made them once roam the prairies in countless, 

 endless droves.&quot; 



From the highest elevation in that part of the 

 range we viewed the surrounding ridges, flats and 

 hollows, searching for the buffalo. At length we 

 spied a cloud of dust rising from behind an undulat 

 ing mound, then big black dots hove in sight. 



43 



