it patiently at a short distance, while larger wolves
prowl around, pouncing on the pieces thrown to them by the men, and
which the small ones drop instantly. They keep watch round a camp at
night, and gnaw the skin ropes of horses and cattle.

When the Coyotes, or small white wolves, of Mexico, lose all hope of
escape, they curl themselves up and await death. If impelled by hunger,
one snatches a piece from the hunter, while he cuts up his game, the
whole herd rush upon it, fight, growl, and tear each other for it. Mr.
Ryan, from whose lively descriptions these notices are taken, was for
days followed by a large grey wolf, and every evening when he encamped,
the wolf squatted himself down, and helped himself whenever he could.
Something, however, was generally left for him; and he became so tame,
that he stopped when the party stopped, and when anything was killed,
walked round and round, licking his jaws in expectation of his share. No
one ever molested him, and, therefore, he continued quite harmless. This
sort of proceeding will sometimes take place with a whole pack.

Mr. Ruxton one day killed an old buck, and left it on the ground, where
six small wolves were in attendance. Ten minutes after he left his game,
the six wolves came up with him, one of which had his nose and face
besmeared with blood, and he seemed to be almost bursting. Thinking it
impossible they should have devoured the buck in so short a time, he had
the curiosity to return and see what impression they had made upon it,
and why they had left it. To his astonishment, he found only the bones
and some of the hair remaining, the flesh having been taken off as if it
had been scraped with a knife. They flourish their tails, snarl, bite,
squeak, and swallow the whole time of their meal; and if kindly treated,
will come and warm themselves by the fires of the hunters when they are
asleep, and sit nodding their own heads with drowsiness.

The Esquimaux dogs, though very bold when attacking bears, are so much
afraid of wolves, that they scarcely make any resistance when set upon
by them. Sir John Richardson tells us, that a wolf, wounded by a
musket-ball, returned after dusk, and carried off a dog from among fifty
others, who howled piteously, but did not dare to try and rescue their
companion.

Several wolves will combine, and, forming a semicircle, creep slowly
towards a herd of deer, if there be a precipice near, and hemming them
in gradually, so as n