Two wolves had killed a calf and dragged it into a long patch of dense brush where there was a little spring, the whole furnishing admirable cover for any wild beast.

Early in the morning we started on horseback for this bit of cover, which was some three miles off.

The party consisted of the Judge, old man Prindle, a cowboy, myself, and the dogs.

The judge and I carried our rifles and the cowboy his revolver, but old man Prindle had nothing but a heavy whip, for he swore, with many oaths, that no one should interfere with his big dogs, for by themselves they would surely "make the wolf feel sicker than a stuck hog." Our shaggy ponies racked along at a five-mile gait over the dewy prairie grass.

The two big dogs trotted behind their master, grim and ferocious.