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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
88
After
a
two-mile
run
the
chase
led
upward
again
in
snow
country;
the
Wolf
was
sighted,
but
to
our
disgust,
we
were
on
the
track
of
the
smallest
one.
"I
thought
so,"
growled
young
Penroof.
"Dogs
was
altogether
too
keen
for
a
serious
proposition.
Kind
o'
surprised
it
ain't
turned
out
a
Jack-rabbit."
Within
another
mile
he
had
turned
to
bay
in
a
willow
thicket.
We
heard
him
howl
the
long-drawn
howl
for
help,
and
before
we
could
reach
the
place
King
saw
the
Dogs
recoil
and
scatter.
A
minute
later
there
sped
from
the
far
side
of
the
thicket
a
small
Gray-wolf
and
a
Black
One
of
very
much
greater
size.
"By
golly,
if
he
didn't
yell
for
help,
and
Billy
come
back
to
help
him;
that's
great!"
exclaimed
the
wolver.
And
my
heart
went
out
to
the
brave
old
Wolf
that
refused
to
escape
by
abandoning
his
friend.
The
next
hour
was
a
hard
repetition
of
the
gully
riding,
but
it
was
on
the
highlands
where
there
was
snow,
and
when
again
the
pack
was
split,
we
strained
every
power
and
succeeded
in
keeping
them
on
the
big
"five-fifty
track,"
that
already
was
wearing
for
me
the
glamour
of
romance.
Evidently
the
Dogs
preferred
either
of
the
others,
but
we
got
them
going
at
last.
Another
half
hour's
hard
work
and
far
ahead,
as
I
rose
to
a
broad
flat
plain,
I
had
my
first
glimpse
of
the
Big
Black
Wolf
of
Sentinel
Butte.
"Hurrah!
Badlands
Billy!
Hurrah!
Badlands
Billy!"
I
shouted
in
salute,
and
the
others
took
up
the
cry.
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