The track-hounds were tied in couples, and the beautiful greyhounds loped lightly and gracefully alongside the horses.

The country was fine.

A mile to our right a small plains river wound in long curves between banks fringed with cottonwoods.

Two or three miles to our left the foot-hills rose sheer and bare, with clumps of black pine and cedar in their gorges.

We rode over gently rolling prairie, with here and there patches of brush in the bottoms of the slopes around the dry watercourses.
At last we reached a somewhat deeper valley in which the wolves were harbored.