ng within the corral,
the dread of the excited cows proved to be a monster wolf, crouching on
a shelf of snow. He arose on his haunches and faced the horsemen,
revealing his fangs, while his breast was covered with tiny icicles,
caused by the driveling slaver during the night's run. His weight was
responsible for his present plight, he having ventured out on the
fragile comb of snow above, causing it to cave down; and in the
bewilderment of the moment he had skurried to the safety of the ledge on
which he then rested.

It was a moment of excitement. A steady fire of questions and answers
passed between the younger and older brother. The wolf was in hand, the
horns of a hundred angry cows held the enemy prisoner, and yet the boys
were powerless to make the kill. The situation was tantalizing.

"Can't we poison him?" inquired Dell, in the extremity of the moment.

"Certainly. Hand it to him on a plate--with sugar on it."

"If Mr. Paul had only left us his pistol," meditated Dell, as a
possibility.

"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."

"I have it!" shouted Dell, ignoring all rebuffs. "Dog-toe is a roping
horse. Throw wide the gates. Give me a clear field, and I'll lasso that
wolf and drag him to death, or wrap him to the centre gatepost and you
can kill him with a fence-stay. Dog-toe, I'm going to rope a wolf from
your back," added Dell, patting the horse's neck and turning back to the
gate. "Show me the mettle of the State that bred you."

"You're crazy," said Joel, "but there's no harm in trying it. Whatever
happens, stick to your saddle. Cut the rope if it comes to a pinch. I'll
get a fence-stay."

Ever since the killing of the beef, Dell had diligently practiced with a
rope. It responded to the cunning of his hand, and the danger of the
present moment surely admitted of no false calculations. Dell dismounted
with a splendid assurance, tightened the cinches, tied his rope good and
firm to the fork of the saddle tree, mounted, and announced himself as
ready. The cattle were drifted left and right, opening a lane across the
corral, and Dell rode forward