Raymond S. Spears

“ But these birds knew a man’s potentialities, they knew a human’s wicked possibilities. Conklin looked over his own shoulders. Some one had killed in cold blood the good Indian, Running Voice. Only about three years had elapsed since that murder from ambush. No explanation had been given. But his widow had loved the Singing Bird country, returning to it when she could no longer resist the lure of the wilds.
Lop-Ear’s pack and a human mystery were somewhere in this timber range now. Conklin figured he might as well look the country over and find out the lay of the land first as last. ”

“ Delos Conklin had done no trapping and only casual hunting since he was a boy and youth. At the same time he had been an attentive listener to the stories of good trappers, and had read of a hundred feats of beguiling coyotes and wolves, accounts of which had appeared in handbooks and magazines popular in the ranch dormitory lobbies. Also he had studied the creatures wherever he rode and followed their trails wherever it had been convenient to do so, the truth being that he was a thorough “natural born” nature lover. ”

“ Throwing down his pack and saddle, hobbling the two horses to let them eat the grass which grew in single blades here and there in this coarse gravel and kettle-bottoms of clay, alkali or sand, Conklin went circling around and around in spiral course until some two hundred yards distant and up against a ledge of rocks which had a dozen bands of color, no two alike, and there in a hole, almost a cave, he found some man’s camp. ”

“ And here in the runway worn by passing animals Conklin stood to stare at four .33-caliber brass shells where they had fallen on the ground when some hunter had emptied them firing at a victim he desired to kill. When Conklin picked up the brass tubes he found no stain on the under side. Their bright polish was undimmed. They would not ordinarily tarnish for weeks in this high, clear atmosphere. But drifting wind, passing beasts and the hard stony ground had all combined to hide the boot prints of the shooter—if he wore boots. ”

“ Coyotes, especially the young and yearlings were easy to knock down. The fact that Conklin had obtained two shots at the rabbit-eating lobo indicated a less knowing brute. There was somehow an analogy between the wolf raiders and the furtive human who must have been a desperado. With his real discoveries to report, Conklin hesitated between heading down the long, dry course straight to the ranch and following the wolves over to the Singing Bird Mountains. Along the green timber route he would travel quite a few more miles but he need not make any dry camps, for water was plenty on that course. ”

“ Late in the day, having led his loaded saddle horse across the valley in the trail of the galloping band, he lost the tracks among the rocks even before he reached the woods of the Singing Birds timber belt. The restlessness of the wolves amazed him. They would stop for a few hours to sleep. ”

“ Conklin had seen no other trace of living men. He looked around with inevitable nervousness at this inexplicable indication. Perhaps some wandering cattle country nomad had in passing lost it. But the rider knew this would have to be proved to him before he would admit it. ”

“ A bunch of cattle were among the animals which drank at this good water. Four or five were mavericks, unbranded, but the others were marked with the Bell of Wool-Head Dan. Cougar tracks showed the wolves were not the only meat-eaters thereabout. A big cat came shambling around a point after Conklin had ridden along the bench of the mountain and he killed it with a fine shot from the saddle, for there is not time to take a good position when one meets such quick brutes. In half an hour the clean skin of the victim was dangling over the pack, despite the objections of the indignant horse. ”

“ Only an outlaw, in flight though none pursued, would have chosen this particularly uncomfortable and difficult place, because it possessed advantages he needed in his affairs. One might call the place the Wolf Dens. ”

“ They left the pond heading up a spur, following a game trail cut by ages of hooves and paws. At least two deer had been in the runway since the wolves ascended it in single file. When he found this the hour was too late for him to go far, but the following morning, with several good chunks of antelope meat ready cooked, Conklin traced the runway for miles until it led into a wide pass in the bottom of which were some acres of small evergreen timber in a narrow line clear over to the north side. The animal paths were higher and in the open valley above the timber line. ”