Lobo 



off one of her paws and made with it a line of 

 tracks over each trap. Every precaution and 

 device known to me I used, and retired at a late 

 hour to await the result. 



Once during the night I thought I heard Old 

 Lobo, but was not sure of it. Next day I rode 

 around, but darkness came on before I completed 

 the circuit of the north canon, and I had noth- 

 ing to report. At supper one of the cowboys 

 said, " There was a great row among the cattle 

 in the north canon this morning, maybe there 

 is something in the traps there." It was after- 

 noon of the next day before I got to the place re- 

 ferred to, and as I drew near a great grizzly form 

 arose from the ground, vainly endeavoring to 

 escape, and there revealed before me stood Lobo, 

 King of the Currumpaw, firmly held in the 

 traps. Poor old hero, he had never ceased to 

 search for his darling, and when he found the 

 trail her body had made he followed it reckless- 

 ly, and so fell into the snare prepared for him. 

 There he lay in the iron grasp of all four traps, 

 perfectly helpless, and all around him were nu- 

 merous tracks showing how the cattle had gath- 

 ered about him to insult the fallen despot, without 



49 



