Lobo 



Then followed the inevitable tragedy, the 

 idea of which I shrank from afterward more 

 than at the time. We each threw a lasso over 

 the neck of the doomed wolf, and strained our 

 horses in opposite directions until the blood 

 burst from her mouth, her eyes glazed, her 

 limbs stiffened and then fell limp. Hoiwward 

 then we rode, carrying the dead wolf, and ex- 

 ulting over this, the first death-blow we had 

 been able to inflict on the Currumpaw pack. 



At intervals during the tragedy, and afterward 

 as we rode homeward, we heard the roar of 

 Lobo as he wandered about on the distant 

 mesas, where he seemed to be searching for 

 Blanca. He had never really deserted her, but 

 knowing that he could not save her, his deep- 

 rooted dread of firearms had been too much for 

 him when he saw us approaching. All that day 

 we heard him wailing as he roamed in his quest, 

 and I remarked at length to one of the boys, 

 " Now, indeed, I truly know that Blanca was 

 his mate." 



As evening fell he seemed to be coming tow- 

 ard the home canon, for his voice sounded con- 

 tinually nearer. There was an unmistakable 



46 



