warm on his
shoulders, and the meadow larks singing from swaying weeds, and rabbits
scuttling away through the rocks now and then, Ward began to forget the
ill-luck that had brought him out and to enjoy the hunt for its own
sake.

Farther along there were so many places that would bear investigation
that he left Rattler on a level spot, and with his rifle and
six-shooter, went forward on foot, climbing over ledges of rock,
forcing his way through green-budded, wild-rose bushes or sliding down
loose, gravelly slopes.

One place--a tiny cave under a huge bowlder--looked promising. There
were wolf tracks going in and out, plenty of them. But there were no
bones or offal anywhere around, and Ward decided that it was not a
family residence, but that the wolves had perhaps invaded the nest of
some other animal. He went on hopefully. That side of the gulch was
cobwebbed with tracks.

Then, quite accidentally, he glanced across to the far side, his eyes
attracted to something which had moved. He could see nothing at first,
though from the corner of his eye he had certainly caught a flicker of
movement over there. Yellow sand, gray rocks and bushes, and above a
curlew circling, with long beak outstretched before, and long, red legs
stretched out behind. He almost believed he had but caught the swift
passing of a cloud shadow over there and was on the point of climbing
farther up his own slope, to where a yawning hole in the hill showed
signs of being pawed and trampled. Then an outline slowly defined
itself among a jumble of rocks; head, sloping back, two points for
ears. It might be a rock, but it began to look more and more like a
wolf sitting up on its haunches watching him fixedly.

Even while Ward lifted his rifle and got the ivory bead snugly fitted
into the notch of the rear sight with his eye, he would not have bet
two-bits that he was aiming at an animal. He pulled the trigger with a
steady crooking of his forefinger and the whole gulch clamored with the
noise. The object over there leaped high, came down heavily, and
rolled ten feet down the hill to another level, where it bounded three
or four times convulsively, slid a few feet farther, and lay still
behind a bush.

"Got you that time, you old Turk, if you did nearly fool me playing you
were part of the scenery." Ward slid recklessly down to the bottom,
sought a narrow place, jumped the creek, and climbed exultantly to
where the wolf lay twisted o