PRAIRIE WOLVES ATTACKING A BUFFALO. 31 



careful stalk without once exposing myself, retaining the 

 advantage of wind till within a hundred yards of the old 

 gentleman. The ground in the vicinity was much broken, 

 and before attempting to take a survey of the situation, I 

 ensconced myself behind a boulder. I had been eminently 

 successful, the first glance told me. There was the bull 

 pretending to feed, while four prairie wolves were lying 

 around him on the sparsely covered soil, tongues out, and 

 evidently short of breath from some excessive exertion. 

 None of the dramatis persona had seen me, and I chuckled 

 in my shoes as I grasped more firmly my double barrel, 

 knowing how soon I could turn the tide of battle. By the 

 way, the prairie wolf has always been a favourite of mine, 

 as well as his half-brother, the coyote. Their bark has 

 often recalled pleasant memories, and their services have 

 several times recovered a wounded deer. In a few minutes 

 the apparent ringleader of the quartette got up and shook 

 himself. This was the signal for the others to get upon 

 their pins. Prairie wolf number one walked quietly towards 

 the bull, occasionally stopping (after the manner of dogs to 

 pluck grass) ; then, with a sudden spring, made a feint at 

 the persecuted buffalo's head. The buffalo in his turn 

 lowered his head, and advanced a few steps to meet him ; 

 but this was unnecessary. Now the rest of the fraternity 

 rushed up. Another took the post of teaser, while our 

 friend number one dropped in the rear ; and when a second 

 feint at the head was made by his comrade, number one, 

 watching his chance, left a deep scar over the bull's hock. 

 Again and again this game was played, the same wolf 

 always retaining his rear position. Is not the instinct of 



