120 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



and would probably have died by itself, even if the hounds 

 had not taken part in the killing. Hampered as he was, 

 Abernethy could not take it alive in his usual fashion. 

 So when it was dead he packed it behind his horse and 

 rode back in triumph. The live wolf, as in every other 

 case where one was brought into camp, made curiously 

 little effort to fight with its paws, seeming to acquiesce in 

 its captivity, and looking around, with its ears thrust for- 

 ward, as if more influenced by curiosity than by any other 

 feeling. 



After lunch we rode toward town, stopping at night- 

 fall to take supper by the bank of a creek. We entered 

 the town after dark, some twenty of us on horseback. 

 Wagner was riding with us, and he had set his heart 

 upon coming into and through the town in true cowboy 

 style; and it was he who set the pace. We broke into a 

 lope a mile outside the limits, and by the time we struck 

 the main street the horses were on a run and we tore down 

 like a whirlwind until we reached the train. Thus ended 

 as pleasant a hunting trip as any one could imagine. The 

 party got seventeen coyotes all told, for there were some 

 runs which I did not see at all, as now and then both 

 men and dogs would get split into groups. 



On this hunt we did not see any of the big wolves, the 

 so-called buffalo or timber wolves, which I hunted in the 

 old days on the Northern cattle plains. Big wolves are 

 found in both Texas and Oklahoma, but they are rare 

 compared to the coyotes; and they are great wanderers. 

 Alone or in parties of three or four or half a dozen they 

 travel to and fro across the country, often leaving a dis- 



