a place
where it will be hidden from the eye of a casual passer; but, in course
of time, they cannot prevent signs from accumulating, calculated to
betray its presence to one who is keenly on the watch.

The three searchers had not been moving back and forth among the piles
of rocks more than ten minutes when Old Hank was observed to raise his
head, smile, and sniff the air with more or less eagerness.

"Must be close by, boys," he said, positively. "I kin git the rank odor
that allers hangs 'round the den of wild animals as brings meat home,
an' leaves the bones. The air is a-comin' from that quarter, an' chances
are we'll find the hole sumwhar over yonder."

"I think I see it," said Frank, eagerly. "Just above that little spur
there's a black looking crevice in the rock."

"As dark as my hat," added Hank; "an' I reckon as how that's whar Sallie
lives when she's t' home. Now t' invite ourselves int' her leetle
parlor, boys!"

CHAPTER II

RIDDING THE RANGE OF A PEST

"Well, what do you think now, Frank?" asked Bob, as they stood in front
of that gloomy looking crevice, and observed the marks of many claws
upon the discolored rock, where hairy bodies had drawn themselves along
countless times.

"I'm wondering," the other replied; "what ails our boys at the ranch
never to have suspected that old Sallie had her den, and raised her
broods, so close to the Circle Ranch. Why, right now we're not more'n
ten miles, as the crow flies, away from home. And for years this
terrible she-wolf has lived on the calves and partly grown animals
belonging to cattlemen in this neck of the land. It makes me tired to
think of it!"

"But Frank, it's a long lane that has no turning," remarked Bob; "and
just now we've got to the bend. Sallie has invited her fate once too
often. That lame yearling is going to spell her finish, if Old Hank here
has his way."

"It sure is," agreed Frank. "And when we get back home with the hide of
that old pest fastened to a saddle, the boys will be some sore to think
how anyone of the lot might have done the job, if they'd only turned
this way."

"But what's Hank going to do?" asked the Kentucky boy, watching the
veteran cow-puncher searching on the ground under a stunted pinon tree
that chanced to grow where there was a small bit of soil among the
rocks.

"I don't know for a dead certainty," replied the other; "but I rather
think he's picking up some pieces of wood that might make good t