THE WOLF THAT GOT AWAY. 



*73 



up the right slope of the ridge, a 

 short distance in the rear. As my 

 horse climbed the last few feet of 

 the ascent, the wolf came in view, 

 something over 100 yards away. 

 He went loping off in his loose- 

 jointed, shambling way, along the 

 cattle trail which followed the 

 brink of the steep bluffs. 



He was an immense old fellow. 

 In his long winter coat he appeared 

 as large as a calf. He seemed to 

 have no possible chance of escape. 

 The ground was excellent for cours- 

 ing. At so short a distance, the 

 hounds should stop him within a 

 quarter of a mile ; and, big as he 

 was, there were dogs enough to 

 tear him to shreds. Jerking the 

 revolver from its holster, I turned 

 to start the pack. At that mo- 

 ment, up bounced a jack rabbit; 

 out of sight of the dogs in front, 

 but almost in the midst of the 6 

 in the rear. Shouting, I spurred 

 the horse out on the prairie, hoping 

 to draw one or 2 of the dogs with 

 me. They had seen no wolf; and, 

 as the rabbit danced tantalizingly 

 along the slope, they turned on 

 him with eyes and ears for nothing 

 else. After a short dash he was 

 caught and killed. 



The remaining 3 dogs were out 

 of sight of the rest of the pack. 

 They rushed over the bank at my 

 shout, and, sighting the wolf, at 

 once gave chase ; but, being hin- 

 dered by snow-drifts, they soon 

 became separated. The wolf nei- 

 ther changed his course nor quick- 

 ened his pace, apparently disdain- 

 ing to run from the dogs. As the 

 foremost hound reached him and 

 jumped for a throat hold, the wolf 

 turned and caught the dog by the 

 head. The next instant, the hound 



went whirling down the steep bank, 

 trying desperately to stop his prog- 

 ress over the snow-drifts that broke 

 his fall. I could not tell whether 

 the hound was tossed over the 

 cliff, or whether he jumped over to 

 escape the fangs of his assailant. 

 At all events, he was completely 

 out of the fight, as direct ascent of 

 the steep bluffs was impossible. 



At this moment, the big and sav- 

 age staghound, Happy Jack, dashed 

 in and attacked the wolf. Twist- 

 ing around in his loose skin, as only 

 a wolf can, the brute shook off the 

 powerful dog as he might a terrier. 

 Then turning on him, he tore a 

 great piece from the dog's shoulder, 

 and crushed in several of his ribs 

 like pasteboard. The arrival of 

 the 3d dog, diverted the wolf's 

 attention from his yelping victim. 

 Turning, he made off up the creek ; 

 the dog cutting at his flanks, and 

 he, at every few yards, charging 

 his tormentor. Finally, a lucky 

 snap gashed the hound across the 

 neck, and he faltered and looked 

 back for assistance. Seeing me 

 riding up as fast as the drifts would 

 permit, he turned again after the 

 wolf, but in trying to make a short 

 cut he jumped in a snowbank 

 which filled up a shallow coulee. 

 Floundering out he slowly trotted 

 back to me. At this moment the 

 main pack, having finished the rab- 

 bit, came in sight over the Eastern 

 bank, half a mile away, just as the 

 third dog scrambled up to the prai- 

 rie near me. Turning to the West- 

 ward, I saw a gaunt, grey shape 

 lope to the mouth of a rough cou- 

 lee, a quarter of a mile distant. It 

 stopped, looked back, then disap- 

 peared in the brush, where I knew 

 it would be useless to follow. 



