avoided his clumsy pounce。 It was too early for the Mice； but； as
he skimmed the ground； his keen eye caught the flutter of
feathers by the trap and turned his flight。 The feathers in their
uninteresting emptiness were exposed before he was near； but now
he saw the scraps of meat。 Guileless of cunning； he alighted and
was devouring a second lump whenclankthe dust was flirted
high and the Marsh Hawk was held by his toes； struggling vainly
in the jaws of a powerful wolf…trap。 He was not much hurt。 His
ample wings winnowed from time to time； in efforts to be free；
but he was helpless； even as a Sparrow might be in a rat…trap；
and when the sun had played his fierce chromatic scale； his
swan…song sung； and died as he dies only in the blazing west； and
the shades had fallen on the melodramatic scene of the Mouse in
the elephant…trap； there was a deep； rich sound on the high flat
butte； answered by another； neither very long； neither repeated；
and both instinctive rather than necessary。 One was the
muster…call of an ordinary Wolf； the other the answer of a very
big male； not a pair in this case； but mother and son …
Yellow Wolf and Duskymane。 They came trotting together down the
Buffalo trail。 They paused at the telephone box on the hill and
again at the old cottonwood root； and were making for the river
when the Hawk in the trap fluttered his wings。 The old Wolf
turned toward him；…a wounded bird on the ground surely； and she
rushed forward。 Sun and sand soon burn all trail…scents； there
was nothing to warn her。 She sprang on the flopping bird and a
chop of her jaws ended his troubles； but a horrid soundthe
gritting of her teeth on steeltold her of peril。 She dropped
the Hawk and sprang backward from the dangerous ground； but
landed in the second trap。 High on her foot its death…grip
closed； and leaping with all her strength； to escape； she set her
fore foot in another of the lurking grips of steel。 Never had a
trap been so baited before。 Never was she so unsuspicious。 Never
was catch more sure。 Fear and fury filled the old Wolf's heart；
she tugged and strained； she chewed the chains； she snarled and
foamed。 One trap with its buried log； she might have dragged；
with two； she was helpless。 Struggle as she might； it only worked
those relentless jaws more deeply into her feet。 She snapped
wildly at the air； she tore the dead Hawk into shreds； she roared
the short； barking roar of a crazy Wolf。 She bit at the traps； at
her cub； at herself。 She tore her legs that were held； she gnawed
in frenzy at her flank； she chopped off her tail in her madness；
she splintered all her teeth on the steel； and filled her
bleeding； foaming jaws with clay and sand。
She struggled till she fell； and writhed about or lay like dead；
till strong enough to rise and grind the chains again with her
teeth。
And so the night passed by。
And Duskymane？ Where was he？ The feeling of the time when his
foster…mother had come home poisoned； now returned； but he was
even more afraid of her。 She seemed filled with fighting hate。 He
held away and whined a little； he slunk off and came back when
she lay still； only to retreat again； as she sprang forward；
raging at him； and then renewed her efforts at the traps。 He did
not understand it； but he knew this much； she was in terrible
trouble； and the cause seemed to be the same as that which had
scared them the night they had ventured near the Calf。
Duskymane hung about all night； fearing to go near； not knowing
what to do； and helpless as his mother。
At dawn the next day a sheepherder seeking lost Sheep discovered
her from a neighboring hill。 A signal mirror called the wolver
from his camp。 Duskymane saw the new danger。 He was a mere Cub；
though so tall； he could not face the man； and fled at his
approach。
The wolver rode up to the sorry； tattered； bleeding She…wolf in
the trap。 He raised his rifle and soon the struggling stopped。
The wolver read the trail and the signs about； and remembering
those he had read before； he divined that this was the Wolf with
the great Cubthe She…wolf of Sentinel Butte。
Duskymane heard the 〃crack〃 as he scurried off into cover。 He
could scarcely know what it meant； but he never saw his kind old
foster…mother again。 Thenceforth he must face the world alone。
VII
THE YOUNG WOLF WINS A PLACE AND FAME
Instinct is no doubt a Wolf's first and best guide； but gifted
parents are a great start in life。 The dusky…maned cub had had a
mother of rare excellence and he reaped the advantage of all her
cleverness。 He had inherited an exquisite nose and had absolute
confidence in its admonitions。 Mankind has difficulty in
recognizing the power of nostrils。 A Gray…wolf can glance over
the morning wind as a man does over his newspaper； and get all
the latest news。 He can swing over the ground and have the
minutest information of every living creature that has walked
there within many hours。 His nose even tells which way it ran；
and in a word renders a statement of every animal that recently
crossed his trail； whence it came； and whither it went。
That power had Duskymane in the highest degree； his broad； moist
nose was evidence of it to all who are judges of such things。
Added to this； his frame was of unusual power and endurance； and
last； he had early learned a deep distrust of everything strange；
and； call it what we will； shyness； wariness or suspicion； it was
worth more to him than all his cleverness。 It was this as much as
his physical powers that made a success of his life。 Might is
right in wolf…land； and Duskymane and his mother had been
driven out of Sentinel Butte。 But it was a very delectable land
and he kept drifting back to his native mountain。 One or two big
Wolves there resented his coming。 They drove him off several
times； yet each time he returned he was better able to face them；
and before he was eighteen months old he had defeated all rivals
and established himself again on his native ground； where he
lived like a robber baron； levying tribute on the rich lands
about him and finding safety in the rocky fastness。
Wolver Ryder often hunted in that country； and before long； he
came across a five…and…one…half…inch track； the foot…print of a
giant Wolf。 Roughly reckoned； twenty to twenty…five pounds of
weight or six inches of stature is a fair allowance for each inch
of a Wolf's foot； this Wolf therefore stood thirty…three inches
at the shoulder and weighed about one hundred and forty pounds；
by far the largest Wolf he had ever met。 King had lived in Goat
country； and now in Goat language he exclaimed： 〃You bet； ain't
that an old Billy？〃 Thus by trivial chance it was that Duskymane
was known to his foe； as 'Badlands Billy。'
Ryder was familiar with the muster…call of the Wolves； the long；
smooth cry； but Billy's had a singular feature； a slurring that
was always distinctive。 Ryder had heard this before； in the
Cottonwood Ca駉n； and when at length he got a sight of the big
Wolf with the black mane； it struck him that this was also the
Cub of the old Yellow fury that he had trapped。
These were among the things he told me as we sat by the fire at
night。 I knew of the early days when any one could trap or poison
Wolves； of the passing of those days； with the passing of the
simple Wolves； of the new race of Wolves with new cunning that
were defying the methods of the ranchmen； and increasing steadily
in numbers。 Now the wolver told me of the various ventures that
Penroof had made with different kinds of Hounds； of Foxhounds too
thin…skinned to fight； of Greyhounds that were useless when the
animal was out of sight； of Danes too heavy for the rough
country； and； last； of the composite pack with some of all kinds；
including at times a Bull…terrier to lead them in the final
fight。
He told of hunts after Coyotes； which usually were successful
because the Coyotes sought the plains； and were easily caught by
the Greyhounds。 He told of killing some small Gray…wolves with
this very pack； usually at the cost of the one that led them； but
above all he dwelt on the wonderful prowess of 〃that thar cussed
old Black Wolf of Sentinel Butte；〃 and related the many attempts
to run him down or corner himan unbroken array of failures。 For
the big Wolf； with exasperating persistence； continued to live on
the finest stock of the Penroof brand； and each year was teaching
more Wolves how to do the same with perfect impunity。
I listened even as gold…hunters listen to stories of treasure
trove； for these were the things of my world。 These things indeed
were uppermost in all our minds； for the Penroof pack was lying
around our camp…fire now。 We were out after Badlands Billy。
VIII
THE VOICE IN THE NIGHT AND THE BIG
TRACK IN THE MORNING
One night late in September after the last streak of light was
gone from the west and the Coyotes had begun their yapping
chorus； a deep； booming sound was heard。 King took out his pipe；
turned his head and said： 〃That's himthat's old Billy。 He's
been watching us all day from some high place； and now when the
guns are useless he's here to have a little fun with us。〃
Two or three Dogs arose； with bristling manes； for they clearly
recognized that this was no Coyote。 They rushed out into the
night； but did not go far； their brawling sounds were suddenly
varied by loud yelps； and they came running back to the shelter
of the fire。 One was so badly cut in the shoulder that he was
useless for the rest of the hunt。 Another was hurt in the
flankit seemed the less serious wound； and yet next morning the
hunters buried that second Dog。
The men were furious。 They vowed speedy vengeance； and at dawn
were off on the trail。 The Coyotes yelped their dawning song； but
they melted into the hills when the light was strong。 The hunters
searched about for the big Wolf's track； hoping that the Hounds
would be able to take it up and find him； but they either could
not or would not。
They found a Coyote； however； and within a few hundred yards they
killed him。 It was a victory； I suppose； for Coyotes kill Calves
and Sheep； but somehow I felt the common thought of all： 〃Mighty
brave Dogs for a little Coyote； but they could not face