22 Lobo 



limbs stiffened and then fell limp. Homeward 

 then we rode, carrying the dead wolf, and ex- 

 ulting over this, the first death-blow we had 

 been able to inflict on the Currumpaw pack. 



At intervals during the tragedy, and after- 

 ward as we rode homeward, we heard the roar 

 of Lobo as he wandered about on the distant 

 mesas, where he seemed to be searching for 

 Blanca. He had never really deserted her, 

 but knowing that he could not save her, his 

 deep-rooted dread of firearms had been too 

 much for him when he saw us approaching. 

 All that day we heard him wailing as he 

 roamed in his quest, and I remarked at leng-th 

 to one of the boys, " Now, indeed, I truly know 

 that Blanca was his mate." 



As evening fell he seemed to be coming 

 toward the home cafion, for his voice sounded 

 continually nearer. There was an unmistaka- 

 ble note of sorrow in it now. It was no longer 

 the loud, defiant howl, but a long, plaintive 

 wail: "Blanca! Blanca!" he seemed to call. 

 And as night came down, I noticed that he 

 was not far from the place where we had over- 

 taken her. At length he seemed to find the 

 trail, and when he came to the spot where we 

 had killed her, his heart-broken wailing was 

 piteous to hear. It was sadder than I could 



