Lobo, Rag and Vixen | Page 3

horses, and a pack of enormous wolf-hounds. Far out on the plains
of the Panhandle, he and his dogs had killed many a wolf, and now he
never doubted that, within a few days, old Lobo's scalp would dangle at
his saddle-bow.
Away they went bravely on their hunt in the gray dawn of a summer
morning, and soon the great dogs gave joyous tongue to say that they
were already on the track of their quarry. Within two miles, the grizzly
band of Currumpaw leaped into view, and the chase grew fast and
furious. The part of the wolf-hounds was merely to hold the wolves at
bay till the hunter could ride up and shoot them, and this usually was
easy on the open plains of Texas; but here a new feature of the country
came into play, and showed how well Lobo had chosen his range; for
the rocky cañons of the Currumpaw and its tributaries intersect the
prairies in every direction. The old wolf at once made for the nearest of
these and by crossing it got rid of the horsemen. His band then
scattered and thereby scattered the dogs, and when they reunited at a

distant point of course all of the dogs did not turn up, and the wolves,
no longer outnumbered, turned on their pursuers and killed or
desperately wounded them all. That night when Tannerey mustered his
dogs, only six of them returned, and of these, two were terribly
lacerated. This hunter made two other attempts to capture the royal
scalp, but neither of them was more successful than the first, and on the
last occasion his best horse met its death by a fall; so he gave up the
chase in disgust and went back to Texas, leaving Lobo more than ever
the despot of the region.
Next year, two other hunters appeared, determined to win the promised
bounty. Each believed he could destroy this noted wolf, the first by
means of a newly devised poison, which was to be laid out in an
entirely new manner; the other a French Canadian, by poison assisted
with certain spells and charms, for he firmly believed that Lobo was a
veritable 'loup-garou,' and could not be killed by ordinary means. But
cunningly compounded poisons, charms, and incantations were all of
no avail against this grizzly devastator. He made his weekly rounds and
daily banquets as aforetime, and before many weeks had passed,
Calone and Laloche gave up in despair and went elsewhere to hunt.
In the spring of 1893, after his unsuccessful attempt to capture Lobo,
Joe Calone had a humiliating experience, which seems to show that the
big wolf simply scorned his enemies, and had absolute confidence in
himself. Calone's farm was on a small tributary of the Currumpaw, in a
picturesque cañon, and among the rocks of this very cañon, within a
thousand yards of the house, old Lobo and his mate selected their den
and raised their family that season. There they lived all summer, and
killed Joe's cattle, sheep, and dogs, but laughed at all his poisons and
traps, and rested securely among the recesses of the cavernous cliffs,
while Joe vainly racked his brain for some method of smoking them out,
or of reaching them with dynamite. But they escaped entirely unscathed,
and continued their ravages as before. "There's where he lived all last
summer," said Joe, pointing to the face of the cliff, "and I couldn't do a
thing with him. I was like a fool to him."

II
This history, gathered so far from the cowboys, I found hard to believe
until, in the fall of 1893, I made the acquaintance of the wily marauder,

and at length came to know him more thoroughly than anyone else.
Some years before, in the Bingo days, I had been a wolf-hunter, but my
occupations since then had been of another sort, chaining me to stool
and desk. I was much in need of a change, and when a friend, who was
also a ranch-owner on the Currumpaw, asked me to come to New
Mexico and try if I could do anything with this predatory pack, I
accepted the invitation and, eager to make the acquaintance of its king,
was as soon as possible among the mesas of that region. I spent some
time riding about to learn the country, and at intervals, my guide would
point to the skeleton of a cow to which the hide still adhered, and
remark, "That's some of his work."
It became quite clear to me that, in this rough country, it was useless to
think of pursuing Lobo with hounds and horses, so that poison or traps
were the only available expedients. At present we had no traps large
enough, so I set to