After riding a while we made out some cattle, a few of which were on the range, browsing in the lee of a ridge.

No sooner had I marked them than Jones let out another Comanche yell.
"Wolf!" he yelled; and spurring his big bay, he was off like the wind.
A single glance showed me several cows running as if bewildered, and near them a big white wolf pulling down a calf.

Another white wolf stood not far off.

My horse jumped as if he had been shot; and the realization darted upon me that here was where the certain something began.

Spot--the mustang had one black spot in his pure white--snorted like I imagined a blooded horse might, under dire insult.