198 HUNTING THE GRISLY. 



and the beautiful greyhounds loped lightly and 

 gracefully alongside the horses. The coun- 

 try was fine. A mile to our right a small 

 plains river wound in long curves between 

 banks fringed with cottonwoods. Two or 

 three miles to our left the foot-hills rose sheer 

 and bare, with clumps of black pine and cedar 

 in their gorges. We rode over gently rolling 

 prairie, with here and there patches of brush 

 at the bottoms of the slopes around the dry 

 watercourses. 



At last we reached a somewhat deeper val- 

 ley, in which the wolves were harbored. 

 Wolves lie close in the daytime and will not 

 leave cover if they can help it ; and as they 

 had both food and water within we knew it 

 was most unlikely that this couple would be 

 gone. The valley was a couple of hundred 

 yards broad and three or four times as long, 

 filled with a growth of ash and dwarf elm and 

 cedar, thorny underbrush choking the spaces 

 between. Posting the cowboy, to whom he 

 gave his rifle, with two greyhounds on one 

 side of the upper end, and old man Prindle 

 with two others on the opposite side, while I 

 was left at the lower end to guard against the 

 possibility of the wolves breaking back, the 

 Judge himself rode into the thicket near me 

 and loosened the track-hounds to let them 

 find the wolves' trail. The big dogs also were 

 uncoupled and allowed to go in with the 

 hounds. Their power of scent was very poor, 

 but they were sure to be guided aright by the 

 baying of the hounds, and their presence 



