The line was halted. The unlooked-for question now arose how to make
the kill safe and effective. It would be impossible to shoot from the
opposite bank without endangering the line of men and horses. Finally
a small number of rifles were advanced on the extreme left flank to
within two hundred yards of the quarry, where they opened fire at
an angle from the watchers on the opposite bank. They proved poor
marksmen, overshooting, and only succeeded in wounding a few and
forcing several to take to the water, so that it became necessary to
recall the men to the line.

These men were now ordered to dismount and lie down, as the opposite
side would take a hand when the swimming wolves came within range of
shotguns and carbines, to say nothing of six-shooters. The current
carried the swimming ones down the river, but every man was in
readiness to give them a welcome. The fusillade which greeted them was
like a skirmish-line in action, but the most effective execution was
with buckshot as they came staggering and water-soaked out of the
water. Before the shooting across the river had ceased, a yell of
alarm surged through the line, and the next moment every man was
climbing into his saddle and bringing his arms into position for
action. No earthly power could have controlled the men, for coming at
the line less than two hundred yards distant was the corralled band of
wolves under the leadership of a monster dog wolf, evidently a leader
of some band, and every gun within range opened on them. By the time
they had lessened the intervening distance by one half, the
entire band deserted their leader and retreated, but unmindful of
consequences he rushed forward at the line. Every gun was belching
fire and lead at him, while tufts of fur floating in the air told that
several shots were effective. Wounded he met the horsemen, striking