Lobo 



the pack, and the place where the beef-head 

 and its traps had been was empty. A hasty 

 study of the trail showed that Lobo had kept 

 the pack from approaching the meat, but one, 

 a small wolf, had evidently gone on to examine 

 the head as it lay apart and had walked right 

 into one of the traps. 



We set out on the trail, and within a mile 

 discovered that the hapless wolf was Blanca. 

 Away she went, however, at a gallop, and al- 

 though encumbered by the beef-head, which 

 weighed over fifty pounds, she speedily dis- 

 tanced my companion who was on foot. But 

 we overtook her when she reached the rocks, 

 for the horns of the cow's head became caught 

 and held her fast. She was the handsomest 

 wolf I had ever seen. Her coat was in perfect 

 condition and nearly white. 



She turned to fight, and raising her voice 

 in the rallying cry of her race, sent a long 

 howl rolling over the canon. From far away 

 upon the mesa came a deep response, the cry 

 of Old Lobo. That was her last call, for now 

 we had closed in on her, and all her energy and 

 breath were devoted to combat. 



45 



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