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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
159
Now
it
was
my
turn
to
crow,
and
I
did
not
lose
the
chance.
Snap
had
shown
them
how,
and
at
last
the
Mendoza
pack
had
killed
a
Gray-wolf
without
help
from
the
men.
There
were
two
things
to
mar
the
victory
somewhat:
first,
it
was
a
young
Wolf,
a
mere
Cub,
hence
his
foolish
choice
of
country;
second,
Snap
was
wounded--the
Wolf
had
given
him
a
bad
cut
in
the
shoulder.
As
we
rode
in
proud
procession
home,
I
saw
he
limped
a
little.
"Here,"
I
cried,
"come
up,
Snap."
He
tried
once
or
twice
to
jump
to
the
saddle,
but
could
not.
"Here,
Hilton,
lift
him
up
to
me."
"Thanks;
I'll
let
you
handle
your
own
rattlesnakes,"
was
the
reply,
for
all
knew
now
that
it
was
not
safe
to
meddle
with
his
person.
"Here,
Snap,
take
hold,"
I
said,
and
held
my
quirt
to
him.
He
seized
it,
and
by
that
I
lifted
him
to
the
front
of
my
saddle
and
so
carried
him
home.
I
cared
for
him
as
though
he
had
been
a
baby.
He
had
shown
those
Cattle-men
how
to
fill
the
weak
place
in
their
pack;
the
Foxhounds
may
be
good
and
the
Greyhounds
swift
and
the
Russians
and
Danes
fighters,
but
they
are
no
use
at
all
without
the
crowning
moral
force
of
grit,
that
none
can
supply
so
well
as
a
Bull-terrier.
On
that
day
the
Cattlemen
learned
how
to
manage
the
Wolf
question,
as
you
will
find
if
ever
you
are
at
Mendoza;
for
every
successful
Wolf
pack
there
has
with
it
a
Bull-terrier,
preferably
of
the
Snap-Mendoza
breed.
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