The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon | Page 2

volume of
this series, "The Saddle Boys of the Rockies, Or, Lost on Thunder
Mountain," and which, in a way, is an introduction to the present story.
In the first book the boys cleared up a wonderful mystery concerning a
great cavern.

For several minutes Bob was busily engaged with the saddle girth that
had been giving him considerable trouble on this gallop.
"There," he remarked, finally, throwing down the flap as though
satisfied with his work. "I reckon I've got it fixed now so that it will
hold through the day; but I need a new girth, and when we pull up
again at Circle Ranch I'll see about getting it. Oh! did you make out
anything with the glasses, Frank?"
He sprang into the saddle like one who had spent much of his time on
horseback. Domino curvetted and pranced a little, being still full of
mettle and spirits; but a very firm hand held him in.
"Take the glass, and see if you can make out what it is," Frank
remarked, as if he hardly knew himself, or felt like trusting his eyes.
A minute later Bob lowered the glasses.
"There's something on the ground, and I can catch a glimpse of what
looks like a dun-colored hide through the tufts of buffalo grass. The
yearling was red, you said, Frank? All right. Then I reckon we'll find
her there; but not on her feet."
"Come on!"
As he said these curt words Frank let Buckskin have his head; and,
accompanied by his chum, started at a full gallop over the level, in the
direction of the spot where the dun-colored object had been sighted.
Shortly afterward they topped a little rise, and pulled up. No need to
doubt their eyes now. Just before them lay the mangled remains of the
lame yearling, very little being left to tell the story of how the animal
had met its fate.
"Wolves!" said Frank, gloomily, as he sat looking down at the torn
hide.
"I don't know the signs as well as you, Frank, but I'd say the same from

general indications. And they had a royal good feast, too. This makes a
round half dozen head your father has lost in the last month, doesn't it?"
asked Bob.
"Seven, all told. When Bart Heminway told me he had noticed that one
of those fine yearlings seemed lame, I wondered if something wasn't
going to happen to it soon. And then, when we missed it from the herd
last night, I guessed what had come about. They caught her behind the
rest, and pulled her down. The poor thing didn't have a ghost of a show
against that pack of savage wolf-dogs."
"I'd like to have just one chance at them, that's all," grumbled Bob, as
he let his hand fondle the butt of a modern repeating rifle, which he
carried fastened to his saddle.
"This is sure the limit, and it's just got to stop!" declared Frank, grimly.
"Right now?" queried his chum, eagerly.
Two pairs of flashing eyes met, the black ones sending a challenge
toward the blue.
"Why not?" said Frank, shutting his jaws hard, "the day is before us
still; and we're well primed for the business of hunting that pack to
their den. Look at that bunch of rocks a few miles off; that must be
where they hang out, Bob! Queer that none of the boys have ever
thought of hunting in this quarter for that old she-wolf Sallie, and her
brood."
"Then you think she did it, do you?" asked Bob.
"Sure she did. You can see for yourself where her jaws closed on the
throat of the poor yearling. Everybody knows her trademark. That sly
beast has been the bane of the cattle ranches around here for several
years. They got to calling her Sallie in fun; but it's been serious
business lately; and many a cowboy'd ride two hundred miles for a
chance to knock her over."

"And yet none of the rough riders have even thought to search that
rocky pile for her den, you say?" Bob continued.
"Why, you see, the killings have always been in other directions,"
Frank explained. "Just as shrewd animals often do, up to now Sallie has
never pulled down a calf anywhere near her den. I reckon she just knew
it might cause a search. But this time she's either grown over-bold, or
else the pack started to do the business in spite of her, and she was
forced into the game."
"Well, shall we head for that elevation, and see what we can find?"
asked Bob, who was inclined to be a little impatient.
"Wait a bit. It would be ten times better if we could only track the
greedy pack direct; but that's a