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Updated: June 10, 2025
It required steady mounting and dismounting, a gentle, easy pull, a few inches or a foot, and with the patience of a butcher's son, Dog-toe earned his corn and his master a bale of peltry. Evening brought report of further annoyance of wolves. New packs had evidently joined forces with the remnants of the day before, as there was neither reduction in numbers nor lessening in approach or attitude.
Take it all along the line, wasn't it good fighting?" "Has Dell told you everything?" inquired Joel, sitting up in his blankets. "Everything, including the fact that he got lost the night of the March drift, while going home after a pack horse. Wouldn't trust poor old Dog-toe, but run on the rope himself! Landed down the creek here a few miles. News to you?
As a matter of precaution, he carried matches, and on striking one, confusion assumed the reign over all caution and advice. He was lost, but contentious to the last ditch. Several times he remounted and allowed his horse free rein, but each time Dog-toe turned into the eye of the storm, then the true course home, and was halted. Reason was abandoned and disorder reigned.
It was the hackberry at the mouth of the cove, its broken twigs bespoke a fire which Dell had built, and yet the mute witness tree and impatient horse were doubted. And not until Dog-toe halted at the stable door was the boy convinced of his error. "Dog-toe," said Dell, as he swung out of the saddle, "you forgot more than I ever knew.
Nodding to Joel that the moment had come, as the horse advanced and the enemy came within reach, the singing noose shot out, the wolf arose as if to spring, and the next instant Dog-toe whirled under spur and quirt, leaving only a blur behind as he shot across the corral. Only his rider had seen the noose fall true, the taut rope bespoke its own burden, and there was no time to shout.
"Let's beat for the sand hills, then. They lay to our right, and the wolves are gone." "The storm is from the northwest. If it holds from that quarter, we'll miss the sand dunes by several miles. Then it becomes a question of horseflesh." "If we miss the sand hills, I'll go back and get a pack horse and overtake you to-morrow. It isn't cold, and Dog-toe can face the storm."
"Yes, you could about hit that bank with a six-shooter. It's the risk of a man's life to wound that wolf. He's cornered. I wouldn't dismount within twenty feet of him for this herd." "I could shoot him from Dog-toe. This is the horse from which Mr. Paul killed the beef. All trail horses are gun-proof." "My, but you are full of happy ideas. We've got to let that wolf go we can't make the kill."
An old wood road crossed on the pebbly shoal, and forcing his horse to feel his way through the softened crust, a riplet was unearthed as it purled from under an earthen bank. "Here's your running water," shouted Dell, dropping the reins and allowing Dog-toe to drink. "Here you are come and see for yourself." Joel was delighted with Dell's discovery.
"That's it; and hold the cattle under herd until we can count and receive them." Dell led out his horse and mounted. "Dog-toe will take me safely home to-night," said he, "and we'll reach the Republican by noon to-morrow. If the herd's there, you haven't an hour to waste. We'll drop down on you in a day and a half." The night received courier and horse.
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