"Take out the herd to-day," said Dell, "and let me break out more
running water. I'll take these basins in and refill them, make new ones,
and to-night we'll put out fifty baits."

The cattle were pointed up the new trail to the southern divide. Joel
took the herd, and Dell searched the creek for other shallows tributary
to the corral. Three more were found within easy distance, when the
troughs were gathered with fork and sled, and taken home to be refilled.
It was Dell Wells's busy day. Cunning and caution were his helpers;
slighting nothing, ever crafty on the side of safety, he cut, bored, and
charred new basins, to double the original number. After loading, for
fear of any human taint, he dipped the troughs in water and laid them in
the shade to freeze. A second trip with the sled was required to
transport the basins up to the corral, the day's work being barely
finished in time for him to assist in penning the herd.

"How many baits have you?" was Joel's hail.

"Sixty odd."

"You'll need them. Three separate wolf packs lay in sight all the
afternoon. Several times they crept up within one hundred yards of the
cattle. One band numbered upwards of twenty."

"Let them come," defiantly said Dell. "The banquet is spread.
Everything's done, except to drag the carcass, and I didn't want to do
that until after the cattle were corraled."

The last detail of the day was to build a little fire, which would die
out within an hour after darkness. It would allow the cattle time to bed
down and the packs to gather. As usual, it was not the intention of the
boys to return, and as they mounted their horses to leave, all the
welled-up savage in Dell seemed to burst forth.

"Welcome, Mr. Wolf, welcome," said he, with mimic sarcasm and a gesture
which swept the plain. "I've worked like a dog all day and the feast is
ready. Mrs. Wolf, will you have a hackberry plate, or do you prefer the
scent of cottonwood? You'll find the tender, juicy kidney suet in the
ash platters. Each table seats sixteen, with fresh water right at hand.
Now, have pallets and enjoy yourselves. Make a night of it. Eat, drink,
and be merry, for to-morrow your pelts are mine."

"Don't count your chickens too soon," urged Joel.

"To-morrow you're mine!" repeated Dell, ignoring all advice. "I'll
carpet the dug-out with your hides, or sell them to a tin peddler."

"You counted before they were hatched this morning," admonished his
brother. "You're only ent