THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 95 
Here was an old cabin that had been built several years before by Bob 
Neil, Bill Daly and others, and had been used as a trappers’ cabin. 
There was a prairie here and lots of grass, so while we cooked dinner 
the horses filled up and at 1 o’clock we saddled up and pulled out, 
intending to go as far as Elk prairie. There were no trails those days, 
so we hit straight through the woods, and after traveling about three 
or four hours we came to a stream of water that flows out of Black 
Butte and makes one prong of Butte Creek. Here was grass high as a 
horse’s back, and a huge spreading maple to camp under, and one of 
the prettiest streams that I ever saw in all my life, and full of fish 
besides. This was too good to pass by, so we just simply unpacked 
and turned the horses loose, and after resting awhile we got out our 
hooks and lines and in twenty minutes had all of the speckled beauties 
we wanted. Some were twelve and fourteen inches in length. This 
same stream can be reached from Ashland now by auto in half a day, 
but parties would have to waik a certain distance. An auto road could 
very easily be made the whole distance. After supper, which consisted 
of bread baked by the camp fire, fried potatoes, butter, coffee and fried 
fish, we concluded to take a walk out to Elk prairie, which we knew 
could not be very far, and here I did a foolish trick and discovered it 
when it was too late. I went without my gun! I wanted to leave the 
degs in camp, and knew if I went without the gun they would not 
want to follow. So Bob took his gun along and I sauntered along 
behind, not thinking for a moment that we would see any game that 
would be worth shooting at. But in this I was mistaken, for after 
traveling perhaps a half or three-quarters of a mile we came to the 
edge of Elk prairie, and, lo and behold, right out in the prairie, not over 
125 yards, were two big gray wolves, busy feeding on the carcass of a 
deer which they had probably killed. I-need not tell you that just 
about this time I would have given a kingdom for my gun, and watched 
as Bob pulled up his Winchester and took careful aim at one of them 
and let her go. At the crack of the gun the wolf leaped high in the 
air and turned round and round and tumbled over. The other one 
sprang off a few yards and stopped to look and listen. The lever went 
down and up, and quicker than it takes to tell it, another bullet sped 
from the .44 and caught him in the thigh. Away he went now towards 
the timber, dragging one hind leg, and away went Bob, too, stopping 
to shoot about every twenty yards. How it would have ended is hard 
to tell, but just then I heard the dogs coming. I stopped Trailor, but 
Ranger passed by like a cyclone and saw the wolf. You could just see 
a black streak going across that prairie. The wolf could not make 
much headway, and it was plain to be seen that Ranger would over- 
take him before he could get to the timber to save his life. Bob kept 
going, but did not shoot any more after Ranger passed him. The race 
was soon over, and when the wolf saw he was soon to be overtaken, 
he stopped and swung around to face his foes. Ranger was too foxy to 
elose in on him, but instead ran round and round him, and every 
chance he got would try to get him by the ham. Bob soon got there 
and the old Winchester cracked, and I saw Ranger seize him and com- 
mence to yank him around. [I let Trailor go now and I went also. I 
knew he was disappointed when he got there, but I couldn’t help it. 
He was too valuable a dog to take chances on getting him hurt by a 
wolf. Bob wanted to skin them, so we went to work and took the 
hides off. Bob said he would pack the hides, and was gracious enough 
to give me the gun, but of course we supposed there was nothing 
between there and camp. I confess I was a little down in the mouth, 
and kept thinking it would be a cold day when I left my gun in camp 
again. 
