THE WOLF HUNTERS 



"Only two — me an' John Adkins. You see, 

 Frenchy is to take a man with him an' round 

 up the country south of the Arkansas, along the 

 Cimarron an' the Canadians, an' I'll take Ad- 

 kins with me an' scout the country north till we 

 find the camps. 



Next morning, after breakfast. Wild Bill, fol- 

 lowed by Found, took the trail back to Fort 

 Larned. Jack and I made our usual round of the 

 baits in the forenoon, skinned the dead wolves 

 that we found lying about them, brought in the 

 skins and pegged them down to dry. 



In the afternoon we started out afoot to kill 

 some fresh meat for our mess, the Irishman going 

 up the creek in search of antelope or deer while I 

 walked down to the slough to see if there were any 

 water-fowl there to be picked up. I killed a sand- 

 hill crane and returned to camp. Jack had done 

 better than I, having killed a large deer and come 

 back and taken Prince out to carry the meat in. 

 Tom had outdone us both, having killed four an- 

 telope without leaving camp. 



*'How in the world did you do it, Tom.?" I 

 asked as I come to where he was busy skinning 

 and dressing four dead antelope that he had 

 strung up. 



"Well, sir, I'll tell you how it was," replied he 

 with a gratified smile, still plying his butcher-knife. 

 "Soon after you men left camp a bunch of antelope 

 come playing 'round on the prairie out yonder, 



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