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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
153
Hilton
Penroof,
the
oldest
boy,
"The
Master
of
Hounds,"
was
unusually
proud
of
them,
and
expected
them
to
do
great
things.
"Greyhounds
are
too
thin-skinned
to
fight
a
Wolf,
Danes
are
too
slow,
but
you'll
see
the
fur
fly
when
the
Russians
take
a
hand."
Thus
the
Greyhounds
were
there
as
runners,
the
Danes
as
heavy
backers,
and
the
Russians
to
do
the
important
fighting.
There
were
also
two
or
three
Foxhounds,
whose
fine
noses
were
relied
on
to
follow
the
trail
if
the
game
got
out
of
view.
It
was
a
fine
sight
as
we
rode
away
among
the
Badland
Buttes
that
October
day.
The
air
was
bright
and
crisp,
and
though
so
late,
there
was
neither
snow
nor
frost.
The
Horses
were
fresh,
and
once
or
twice
showed
me
how
a
Cow-pony
tries
to
get
rid
of
his
rider.
The
Dogs
were
keen
for
sport,
and
we
did
start
one
or
two
gray
spots
in
the
plain
that
Hilton
said
were
Wolves
or
Coyotes.
The
Dogs
trailed
away
at
full
cry,
but
at
night,
beyond
the
fact
that
one
of
the
Greyhounds
had
a
wound
on
his
shoulder,
there
was
nothing
to
show
that
any
of
them
had
been
on
a
Wolf-hunt.
"It's
my
opinion
yer
fancy
Russians
is
no
good,
Hilt,"
said
Garvin,
the
younger
brother.
"I'll
back
that
little
black
Dane
against
the
lot,
mongrel
an'
all
as
he
is."
"I
don't
unnerstan'
it,"
growled
Hilton.
"There
ain't
a
Coyote,
let
alone
a
Gray-wolf,
kin
run
away
from
them
Greyhounds;
them
Foxhounds
kin
folly
a
trail
three
days
old,
an'
the
Danes
could
lick
a
Grizzly."
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