IV

Next day was Hallowe'en, the anniversary of Snap's advent. The weather

was clear, bright, not too cold, and there was no snow on the ground.

The men usually celebrated the day with a hunt of some sort, and now,

of course, Wolves were the one object. To the disappointment of all,

Snap was in bad shape with his wound. He slept, as usual, at my feet,

and bloody stains now marked the place. He was not in condition to

fight, but we were bound to have a Wolf-hunt, so he was beguiled to an

outhouse and locked up, while we went off, I, at least, with a sense of

impending disaster. I knew we should fail without my Dog, but I did not

realize how bad a failure it was to be.

Afar among the buttes of Skull Creek we had roamed when a white ball

appeared bounding through the sage-brush, and in a minute more Snap

came, growling and stump-waggling, up to my Horse's side. I could not

send him back; he would take no such orders, not even from me. His

wound was looking bad, so I called him, held down the quirt, and jumped

him to my saddle.

"There," I thought, "I'll keep you safe till we get home." 'Yes, I

thought; but I reckoned not with Snap. The voice of Hilton, "Hu, hu,"

announced that he had sighted a Wolf. Dander and Riley, his rival, both

sprang to the point of observation, with the result that they collided

and fell together, sprawling, in the sage. But Snap, gazing hard, had

sighted the Wolf, not so very far off, and before I knew it, he leaped

from the saddle and bounded zigzag, high, low, in and under the sage,

straight for the enemy, leading the whole pack for a few minutes. Not

far, of course. The great Greyhounds sighted the moving speck, and the

usual procession strung out on the plain. It promised to be a fine

hunt, for the Wolf had less than half a mile start and all the Dogs

were fully interested.

"They 'ye turned up Grizzly Gully," cried Garvin. "This way, and we can

head them off."

So we turned and rode hard around the north side of Hulmer's Butte,

while the chase seemed to go round the south.

We galloped to the top of Cedar Ridge and were about to ride down, when

Hilton shouted, "By George, here he is! We're right onto him." He

leaped from his Horse, dropped the bridle, and ran forward. I did the

same. A great Gray-wolf came lumbering across an open plain toward us.

His head was low, his tail out level, and fifty yards behind him was

Dander, sailing like a Hawk over the ground, going twice as fast as the

Wolf. In a minute the Hound was alongside and snapped, but bounded

back, as the Wolf turned on him. They were just below us now and not

fifty feet away. Garvin drew his revolver, but in a fateful moment

Hilton interfered: "No; no; let's see it out." In a few seconds the

next Greyhound arrived, then the rest in order of swiftness. Each came

up full of fight and fury, determined to go right in and tear the

Gray-wolf to pieces; but each in turn swerved aside, and leaped and

barked around at a safe distance. After a minute or so the Russians

appeared--fine big Dogs they were. Their distant intention no doubt

was to dash right at the old Wolf; but his fearless front, his sinewy

frame and death-dealing jaws, awed them long before they were near him,

and they also joined the ring, while the desperado in the middle faced

this way and that, ready for any or all.

Now the Danes came up, huge-limbed creatures, any one of them as heavy

as the Wolf. I heard their heavy breathing tighten into a threatening

sound as they plunged ahead; eager to tear the foe to pieces; but when

they saw him there, grim fearless, mighty of jaw, tireless of limb,

ready to die if need be, but sure of this, he would not die

alone--well, those great Danes--all three of them--were stricken, as

the rest had been, with a sudden bashfulness: Yes, they would go right

in presently--not now, but as soon as they had got their breath; they

were not afraid of a Wolf, oh, no. I could read their courage in their

voices. They knew perfectly well that the first Dog to go in was going

to get hurt, but never mind that--presently; they would bark a little

more to get up enthusiasm.

And as the ten big Dogs were leaping round the silent Wolf at bay,

there was a rustling in the sage at the far side of place; then a

snow-white rubber ball, it seemed, came bounding, but grew into a

little Bull-terrier, and Snap, slowest of the pack, and last, came

panting hard, so hard he seemed gasping. Over the level open he made,

straight to the changing ring around the Cattle-killer whom none dared

face. Did he hesitate? Not for an instant; through the ring of the

yelping pack, straight for the old despot of range, right for his

throat he sprang; and the Gray-wolf struck with his twenty scimitars.

But the little one, if fooled at all, sprang again, and then what came

I hardly knew. There was a whirling mass of Dogs. I thought I saw the

little White One clinched on the Gray-wolf's nose. The pack was all

around; we could not help them now. But they did not need us; they had

a leader of dauntless mettle, and when in a little while the final

scene was done, there on the ground lay the Gray-wolf, a giant of his

kind, and clinched on his nose was the little white Dog.

We were standing around within fifteen feet, ready to help, but had no

chance till were not needed.

The Wolf was dead, and I hallooed to Snap, but he did not move. I bent

over him. "Snap--Snap, it's all over; you've killed him." But the Dog

was very still, and now I saw two deep wounds in his body. I tried to

lift him. "Let go, old fellow; it's all over." He growled feebly, and

at last go of the Wolf. The rough cattle-men were kneeling around him

now; old Penroof's voice was trembling as he muttered, "I wouldn't had

him hurt for twenty steers." I lifted him in my arms, called to him

and stroked his head. He snarled a little, a farewell as it proved,

for he licked my hand as he did so, then never snarled again.

That was a sad ride home for me. There was the skin of a monstrous

Wolf, but no other hint of triumph. We buried the fearless one on a

butte back of the Ranch-house. Penroof, as he stood by, was heard to

grumble: "By jingo, that was grit--cl'ar grit! Ye can't raise Cattle

without grit."