boy."

"I never mean to," said Jerry, holding up a piece of gray fur.

"That's wolf, all right; and look here, what did you do to him?"
demanded Mr. Mabie.

"I was very kind to the scamp, and hung him up in a tree, where the rest
of his tribe couldn't get at him to tear his hide to pieces. You see, I
had a notion that I'd like to have that skin for a rug, and that later
on, perhaps, one of the boys might go out with me and remove it much
better than I could," grinned Jerry.

"Thank you, my lad. I feel that you've done me a favor. Every wolf that
goes across the Great Divide means more calves to grow up; and you shall
have your rug, I pledge you my word."

Mr. Mabie shook the hand of the successful wolf hunter with emphasis,
showing that he felt deeply on the subject.

Just as he expected, Frank was still rather sore on the following day.
He let the others do the hunting that morning, Will tagging behind the
bunch with his ready camera.

They came in at noon, having covered some new ground, and brought the
best part of an elk with them. Mr. Mabie laughed, and wished it might
have been an antelope instead. He was not partial to elk meat, which was
perhaps natural in a stockman, who could kill young beef whenever the
spirit moved.