Iv THE HOUND OF THE PLAINS 113 
after the manner of fox-hunting which is largely 
pursued now as a sport at army posts in the West, 
and here and there by townspeople and ranchmen. 
It began, J think, and has been most diligently 
developed among the colonists in the interior of 
British Columbia, where a pack of hounds, re- 
cruited largely from the famous Badminton Ken- 
nels, in England, has long been maintained at 
Ashcroft, in the Fraser valley. 
The hounds take to this new sport readily, yet 
the wily and swift-footed wolf is often able to keep 
out of their way, and save his brush in some rocky 
retreat, after leading the horsemen a run which 
sets every nerve a tingling. 
Next to the wolverine, the prairie-wolf is, per- 
haps, the wariest of the animals—not excepting 
the fox—against which the trapper pits himself. 
To poisoned meat he falls a victim through his 
gluttony, and in this way the ranchmen destroy 
great numbers annually; but he is rarely trapped. 
The old writer Say tells, with a touch of glee, how 
his friend Titian Peale, who was a naturalist as 
well as a painter, was baffled in trying to catch a 
live coyote for his father’s famous Museum —one 
of the sights of old Philadelphia. 
Peale’s first experiment was with a “ figure-four,” 
and came to nought because a wolf burrowed under 
the floor and pulled the bait down between the 
planks. ‘This procedure,” sagely remarks Mr. 
Say, “would seem to be the result of a faculty 
I 
