BUFFALO HUNTING. 69 



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 personce 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 

 coyotte. Their bark has often recalled pleasant memo- 

 ries, and their services have several times recovered a 

 wounded deer. In a few minutes the apparent ring- 

 leader 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 (I believe after the manner of 

 dogs to pluck grass) ; then, witli a sudden spring, made 

 a feint at the persecuted buffalo's head. The buffalo in 

 his turn lowered his os frontis, and rushed 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 



