angry wolf.

At last he located the sound off to the east, but as yet he could see
nothing, for it was not yet light enough, and a thin mist, like a
mirage, hung over the surface of the sandy prairie and obscured the
view.

For a long time he stood listening to the long-drawn and savage howl,
thinned out by the distance and mist, but he knew that it was coming
nearer, and that the animal that was making it was not only hungry, but
that it was a master wolf. It was none of the gaunt, half-starved,
cowardly brutes that follow in the pack and take what the master wolf
leaves of the scraps of the murdered calf or sick cow or sheep which the
leaders of the pack have pulled down.

He had heard before the yells of these kings of the packs of savage
prairie wolves, and they were masterful indeed, and could easily be
distinguished above the feebler pipings of the wolf rabble.

Suddenly the sun came up and the mists disappeared as by magic, and it
was light.

Ted looked steadily toward the place from which the howls had come when
it was dark, and saw a spot against the earth.

It was either a pony or a cow, and it was in trouble, for it came on
very uncertainly, running sideways, stopping for a moment to kick, then
running on again.

Ted immediately saw what was the matter. It was being pursued by the
wolves he had heard.

The wolves were running with it, perhaps had been chasing it all night,
and were snapping it its heels, trying to hamstring it.

He thought it was a small, lean cow from this distance, and wondered at
its courage, and if it would last until it got close enough to where
there were human beings to be safe from further pursuit.

At first he thought of going inside and putting on his coat and boots
and getting his arms and starting out toward it on his pony. But this
was too much trouble, and he stood watching the tragedy of the plain,
hoping for the plucky animal that was doing its best to outrun and
outwit the wolves, for they were close enough now for him to see that
there were four of the gray devils of the prairie.

But only one of them was worthy of a second look--a great, gray brute
much larger than his mates and twice as courageous.

Ted thought it strange that the wolf king was not doing as the others
did; that is, running up behind their victim and making a slash at his
legs with their razorlike fangs, then retreating with a whining howl
when they felt the heels of the poor brute they were