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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
90
X
WHEN
BILLY
WENT
BACK
TO
HIS
MOUNTAIN
We
were
back
opposite
to
where
the
Wolf
had
plunged,
but
saw
no
sign.
We
rode
at
an
easy
gallop,
on
eastward,
a
mile,
and
still
on,
when
King
gasped
out,
"Look
at
that!"
A
dark
spot
was
moving
on
the
snow
ahead.
We
put
on
speed.
Another
dark
spot
appeared,
and
another,
but
they
were
not
going
fast.
In
five
minutes
we
were
near
them,
to
find--three
of
our
own
Greyhounds.
They
had
lost
sight
of
the
game,
and
with
that
their
interest
waned.
Now
they
were
seeking
us.
We
saw
nothing
there
of
the
chase
or
of
the
other
hunters.
But
hastening
to
the
next
ridge
we
stumbled
on
the
trail
we
sought
and
followed
as
hard
as
though
in
view.
Another
cañon
came
in
our
path,
and
as
we
rode
and
looked
for
a
place
to
cross,
a
wild
din
of
Hounds
came
from
its
brushy
depth.
The
clamor
grew
and
passed
up
the
middle.
We
raced
along
the
rim,
hoping
to
see
the
game.
The
Dogs
appeared
near
the
farther
side,
not
in
a
pack,
but
a
long,
straggling
line.
In
five
minutes
more
they
rose
to
the
edge,
and
ahead
of
them
was
the
great
Black
Wolf.
He
was
loping
as
before,
head
and
tail
low.
Power
was
plain
in
every
limb,
and
double
power
in
his
jaws
and
neck,
but
I
thought
his
bounds
were
shorter
now,
and
that
they
had
lost
their
spring.
The
Dogs
slowly
reached
the
upper
level,
and
sighting
him
they
broke
into
a
feeble
cry;
they,
too,
were
nearly
spent.
The
Greyhounds
saw
the
chase,
and
leaving
us
they
scrambled
down
the
cañon
and
up
the
other
side
at
impetuous
speed
that
would
surely
break
them
down,
while
we
rode,
vainly
seeking
means
of
crossing.
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