his
quirt in the direction of the rocky uplift that stood like a landmark
in the midst of the great level sea of purple sage brush, marking the
plain.

After one good look the cowman nodded his head again in the affirmative.

"Reckon as how y'r' right, Frank," he remarked; "but we'll see how the
trail heads."

Throwing himself from his saddle he bent down over the remains of the
yearling that had been so unfortunate as to become lame, and thus,
lagging far behind the rest of the herd, fallen a victim to the wolf
pack.

"Easy as fallin' off a log," announced old Hank, immediately. "Jest as I
was sayin', thar's nearly allers one clumsy cub as don't hev half sense;
an' I kin foller this trail on horseback, 'pears to me."

He ran it out a little way; then, once more mounting, went on ahead,
with his keen eyes fastened on the ground.

Bob watched his actions with the greatest of interest. He knew Old Hank
was discovering a dozen signs that would be utterly invisible to one who
had not had many years of practice in tracking both wild animals and
human beings.

Now and then the trailer would draw in his horse, as though desirous of
looking more carefully at the ground. Twice he even dropped off and bent
low, to make positive his belief.

"I reckon you were right, Frank," remarked Bob, after half an hour of
this sort of travel "because, you see, even if the trail did lead away
from the rocks at first, it's heading that way now on a straight line."

"Thet was only the cuteness of the ole wolf," said Hank. "She's up t'
all the dodges goin'. But that comes a day of reckonin' for all her
kind; an' her's orter be showin' up right soon."

When another half hour passed the three riders had reached the border of
the strange pile of rocks. And as Frank looked up at the rough heap,
with its many crevices and angles, he considered that it certainly must
offer an ideal den to any wild beast wishing to hide through the
daytime, and prowl forth when darkness and night lay upon the land.

"Here's whar the trail ends at the rocks," said Hank, as he dismounted
and threw the bridle over the head of his horse, cowboy fashion, knowing
that under ordinary conditions the animal would remain there, just as if
hobbled, or staked out.

Both of the saddle boys followed his example, and, holding their rifles
ready, prepared to search the rocks for some trace of the wolf den. Wild
animals may be very cunning about locating their retreat in