main　thoroughfares。　A　cottonwood　stump　not　far　from　where　it
  plunged　to　the　gravelly　stream　was　marked　with　Wolf　signs　that
  told　the　wolver　of　its　use。　Here　was　an　excellent　place　for
  traps；　not　on　the　trail；　for　Cattle　were　here　in　numbers；　but
  twenty　yards　away　on　a　level；　sandy　spot　he　set　four　traps　in　a
  twelve…foot　square。　Near　each　he　scattered　two　or　three　scraps　of
  meat；　three　or　four　white　feathers　on　a　spear　of　grass　in　the
  middle　completed　the　setting。　No　human　eye；　few　animal　noses；
  could　have　detected　the　hidden　danger　of　that　sandy　ground；　when
  the　sun　and　wind　and　the　sand　itself　had　dissipated　the　man…track
  taint。
  The　Yellow　Wolf　had　seen　and　passed；　and　taught　her　giant　son　to
  pass；　such　traps　a　thousand　times　before。
  The　Cattle　came　to　water　in　the　heat　of　the　day。　They　strung　down
  the　Buffalo　path　as　once　the　Buffalo　did。　The　little　Vesper…birds
  flitted　before　them；　the　Cowbirds　rode　on　them；　and　the
  Prairie…dogs　chattered　at　them；　just　as　they　once　did　at　the
  Buffalo。
  Down　from　the　gray…green　mesa　with　its　green…gray　rocks；　they
  marched　with　imposing　solemnity；　importance；　and　directness　of
  purpose。　Some　frolicsome　Calves；　playing　along…side　the　trail；
  grew　sober　and　walked　behind　their　mothers　as　the　river　flat　was
  reached。　The　old　Cow　that　headed　the　procession　sniffed
  suspiciously　as　she　passed　the　〃trap　set；〃　but　it　was　far　away；
  otherwise　she　would　have　pawed　and　bellowed　over　the　scraps　of
  bloody　beef　till　every　trap　was　sprung　and　harmless。
  But　she　led　to　the　river。　After　all　had　drunk　their　fill　they　lay
  down　on　the　nearest　bank　till　late　afternoon。　Then　their　unheard
  dinner…gong　aroused　them；　and　started　them　on　the　backward　march
  to　where　the　richest　pastures　grew。
  One　or　two　small　birds　had　picked　at　the　scraps　of　meat；　some
  blue…bottle　flies　buzzed　about；　but　the　sinking　sun　saw　the　sandy
  mask　untouched。
  A　brown　Marsh　Hawk　came　skimming　over　the　river　flat　as　the　sun
  began　his　color　play。　Blackbirds　dashed　into　thickets；　and　easily
  avoided　his　clumsy　pounce。　It　was　too　early　for　the　Mice；　but；　as
  he　skimmed　the　ground；　his　keen　eye　caught　the　flutter　of
  feathers　by　the　trap　and　turned　his　flight。　The　feathers　in　their
  uninteresting　emptiness　were　exposed　before　he　was　near；　but　now
  he　saw　the　scraps　of　meat。　Guileless　of　cunning；　he　alighted　and
  was　devouring　a　second　lump　whenclankthe　dust　was　flirted
  high　and　the　Marsh　Hawk　was　held　by　his　toes；　struggling　vainly
  in　the　jaws　of　a　powerful　wolf…trap。　He　was　not　much　hurt。　His
  ample　wings　winnowed　from　time　to　time；　in　efforts　to　be　free；
  but　he　was　helpless；　even　as　a　Sparrow　might　be　in　a　rat…trap；
  and　when　the　sun　had　played　his　fierce　chromatic　scale；　his
  swan…song　sung；　and　died　as　he　dies　only　in　the　blazing　west；　and
  the　shades　had　fallen　on　the　melodramatic　scene　of　the　Mouse　in
  the　elephant…trap；　there　was　a　deep；　rich　sound　on　the　high　flat
  butte；　answered　by　another；　neither　very　long；　neither　repeated；
  and　both　instinctive　rather　than　necessary。　One　was　the
  muster…call　of　an　ordinary　Wolf；　the　other　the　answer　of　a　very
  big　male；　not　a　pair　in　this　case；　but　mother　and　son　…
  Yellow　Wolf　and　Duskymane。　They　came　trotting　together　down　the
  Buffalo　trail。　They　paused　at　the　telephone　box　on　the　hill　and
  again　at　the　old　cottonwood　root；　and　were　making　for　the　river
  when　the　Hawk　in　the　trap　fluttered　his　wings。　The　old　Wolf
  turned　toward　him；…a　wounded　bird　on　the　ground　surely；　and　she
  rushed　forward。　Sun　and　sand　soon　burn　all　trail…scents；　there
  was　nothing　to　warn　her。　She　sprang　on　the　flopping　bird　and　a
  chop　of　her　jaws　ended　his　troubles；　but　a　horrid　soundthe
  gritting　of　her　teeth　on　steeltold　her　of　peril。　She　dropped
  the　Hawk　and　sprang　backward　from　the　dangerous　ground；　but
  landed　in　the　second　trap。　High　on　her　foot　its　death…grip
  closed；　and　leaping　with　all　her　strength；　to　escape；　she　set　her
  fore　foot　in　another　of　the　lurking　grips　of　steel。　Never　had　a
  trap　been　so　baited　before。　Never　was　she　so　unsuspicious。　Never
  was　catch　more　sure。　Fear　and　fury　filled　the　old　Wolf's　heart；
  she　tugged　and　strained；　she　chewed　the　chains；　she　snarled　and
  foamed。　One　trap　with　its　buried　log；　she　might　have　dragged；
  with　two；　she　was　helpless。　Struggle　as　she　might；　it　only　worked
  those　relentless　jaws　more　deeply　into　her　feet。　She　snapped
  wildly　at　the　air；　she　tore　the　dead　Hawk　into　shreds；　she　roared
  the　short；　barking　roar　of　a　crazy　Wolf。　She　bit　at　the　traps；　at
  her　cub；　at　herself。　She　tore　her　legs　that　were　held；　she　gnawed
  in　frenzy　at　her　flank；　she　chopped　off　her　tail　in　her　madness；
  she　splintered　all　her　teeth　on　the　steel；　and　filled　her
  bleeding；　foaming　jaws　with　clay　and　sand。
  She　struggled　till　she　fell；　and　writhed　about　or　lay　like　dead；
  till　strong　enough　to　rise　and　grind　the　chains　again　with　her
  teeth。
  And　so　the　night　passed　by。
  And　Duskymane？　Where　was　he？　The　feeling　of　the　time　when　his
  foster…mother　had　come　home　poisoned；　now　returned；　but　he　was
  even　more　afraid　of　her。　She　seemed　filled　with　fighting　hate。　He
  held　away　and　whined　a　little；　he　slunk　off　and　came　back　when
  she　lay　still；　only　to　retreat　again；　as　she　sprang　forward；
  raging　at　him；　and　then　renewed　her　efforts　at　the　traps。　He　did
  not　understand　it；　but　he　knew　this　much；　she　was　in　terrible
  trouble；　and　the　cause　seemed　to　be　the　same　as　that　which　had
  scared　them　the　night　they　had　ventured　near　the　Calf。
  Duskymane　hung　about　all　night；　fearing　to　go　near；　not　knowing
  what　to　do；　and　helpless　as　his　mother。
  At　dawn　the　next　day　a　sheepherder　seeking　lost　Sheep　discovered
  her　from　a　neighboring　hill。　A　signal　mirror　called　the　wolver
  from　his　camp。　Duskymane　saw　the　new　danger。　He　was　a　mere　Cub；
  though　so　tall；　he　could　not　face　the　man；　and　fled　at　his
  approach。
  The　wolver　rode　up　to　the　sorry；　tattered；　bleeding　She…wolf　in
  the　trap。　He　raised　his　rifle　and　soon　the　struggling　stopped。
  The　wolver　read　the　trail　and　the　signs　about；　and　remembering
  those　he　had　read　before；　he　divined　that　this　was　the　Wolf　with
  the　great　Cubthe　She…wolf　of　Sentinel　Butte。
  Duskymane　heard　the　〃crack〃　as　he　scurried　off　into　cover。　He
  could　scarcely　know　what　it　meant；　but　he　never　saw　his　kind　old
  foster…mother　again。　Thenceforth　he　must　face　the　world　alone。
  VII
  THE　YOUNG　WOLF　WINS　A　PLACE　AND　FAME
  Instinct　is　no　doubt　a　Wolf's　first　and　best　guide；　but　gifted
  parents　are　a　great　start　in　life。　The　dusky…maned　cub　had　had　a
  mother　of　rare　excellence　and　he　reaped　the　advantage　of　all　her
  cleverness。　He　had　inherited　an　exquisite　nose　and　had　absolute
  confidence　in　its　admonitions。　Mankind　has　difficulty　in
  recognizing　the　power　of　nostrils。　A　Gray…wolf　can　glance　over
  the　morning　wind　as　a　man　does　over　his　newspaper；　and　get　all
  the　latest　news。　He　can　swing　over　the　ground　and　have　the
  minutest　information　of　every　living　creature　that　has　walked
  there　within　many　hours。　His　nose　even　tells　which　way　it　ran；
  and　in　a　word　renders　a　statement　of　every　animal　that　recently
  crossed　his　trail；　whence　it　came；　and　whither　it　went。
  That　power　had　Duskymane　in　the　highest　degree；　his　broad；　moist
  nose　was　evidence　of　it　to　all　who　are　judges　of　such　things。
  Added　to　this；　his　frame　was　of　unusual　power　and　endurance；　and
  last；　he　had　early　learned　a　deep　distrust　of　everything　strange；
  and；　call　it　what　we　will；　shyness；　wariness　or　suspicion；　it　was
  worth　more　to　him　than　all　his　cleverness。　It　was　this　as　much　as
  his　physical　powers　that　made　a　success　of　his　life。　Might　is
  right　in　　　wolf…land；　and　Duskymane　and　his　mother　had　been
  driven　out　of　Sentinel　Butte。　But　it　was　a　very　delectable　land
  and　he　kept　drifting　back　to　his　native　mountain。　One　or　two　big
  Wolves　there　resented　his　coming。　They　drove　him　off　several
  times；　yet　each　time　he　returned　he　was　better　able　to　face　them；
  and　before　he　was　eighteen　months　old　he　had　defeated　all　rivals
  and　established　himself　again　on　his　native　ground；　where　he
  lived　like　a　robber　baron；　levying　tribute　on　the　rich　lands
  about　him　and　finding　safety　in　the　rocky　fastness。
  Wolver　Ryder　often　hunted　in　that　country；　and　before　long；　he
  came　across　a　five…and…one…half…inch　track；　the　foot…print　of　a
  giant　Wolf。　Roughly　reckoned；　twenty　to　twenty…five　pounds　of
  weight　or　six　inches　of　stature　is　a　fair　allowance　for　each　inch
  of　a　Wolf's　foot；　this　Wolf　therefore　stood　thirty…three　inches
  at　the　shoulder　and　weighed　about　one　hundred　and　forty　pounds；
  by　far　the　largest　Wolf　he　had　ever　met。　King　had　lived　in　Goat
  country；　and　now　in　Goat　language　he　exclaimed：　〃You　bet；　ain't
  that　an　old　Billy？〃　Thus　by　trivial　chance　it　was　that　Duskymane
  was　known　to　his　foe；　as　'Badlands　Billy。'
  Ryder　was　familiar　with　the　muster…call　of　the　Wolves；　the　long；
  smooth　cry；　but　Billy's　had　a　singular　feature；　a　slurring　that
  was　always　distinctive。　Ryder　had　heard　this　before；　in　the
  Cottonwood　Ca駉n；　and　when　at　length　he　got　a　sight　of　the　big
  Wolf　with　the　black　mane；　it　struck　him　that　this　was　also　the
  Cub　of　the　old　Yellow　fury　that　he　had　trapped。
  These　were　among　the　things　he　told　me　as　we　sat　by　the　fire　at
  night。　I　knew　of　the