war were loosed. Hell popped. The smoke of six hundred guns arose
in clouds. There were wolves swimming the river and wolves trotting
around amongst the horses, wounded and bewildered. Ropes swished
through the smoke, tying wounded wolves to be dragged to death or
trampled under hoof. Men dismounted and clubbed them with shotguns and
carbines,--anything to administer death. Horses were powder-burnt and
cried with fear, or neighed exultingly. There was an old man or two
who had sense enough to secure the horses of the ladies and lead them
out of immediate danger. Several wolves made their escape, and squads
of horsemen were burying cruel rowels in heaving flanks in an endeavor
to overtake and either rope or shoot the fleeing animals.

Disordered things as well as ordered ones have an end, and when sanity
returned to the mob an inventory was taken of the drive-hunt. By
actual count, the lifeless carcases of twenty-six wolves graced the
sand bar, with several precincts to hear from. The promoters of the
hunt thanked the men for their assistance, assuring them that the
bounty money would be used to perfect arrangements, so that in other
years a banquet would crown future hunts. Before the hunt dispersed,
Edwards and his squad returned to the brink of the cut-bank, and when
hailed as to results, he replied, "Why, we only got seven, but they
are all _muy docil_. We're going to peel them and will meet you at the
ford."

"Who gets the turkey?" some one asked.

"The question is out of order," replied Reese. "The property is not
present, because I sent him home by my cook an hour ago. If any of you
have any interest in that gobbler, I'll invite you to go home with
me and help to eat him, for my camp is the only one in the Strip that