Badlands Billy 
scene, he feebly gave a long yell of triumph, 
and scaling the next low bank, was screened 
from view in a cafion of Sentinel Butte. 
We stared like men of stone. The guns in 
our hands were forgotten. It was all so quick, 
so final. We made no move till the Wolf was 
gone. It was not far to the place: we went on 
foot to see if any had escaped. Not one was 
left alive. We could do nothing—we could 
say nothing. 
XI 
THE HOWL AT SUNSET 
O- wow i ? 
A week later we were riding the upper trail 
back of the Chimney Pot, Kingand I. “The 
old man is pretty sick of it,” he said. “He’d 
sell out if he could. He don’t know what ’s 
the next move.” 
The sun went down beyond Sentinel Butte. 
It was dusk as we reached the turn that led to 
Dumont’s place, and a deep-toned rolling howl 
came from the river flat below, followed by a 
number of higher-pitched howls in answering 
chorus. We could see nothing, but we lis- 
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