in their claws was the body, the last of the bright little
Arnaux. There on the rocks the beaks and claws of the bandits
were red with the life of the hero. Torn asunder were those
matchless wings, and their records were scattered unnoticed. In
sun and in storm they lay till the killers themselves were killed
and their stronghold rifled. And none knew the fate of the
peerless Bird till deep in the dust and rubbish of that
pirate-nest the avenger found, among others of its kind, a silver
ring, the sacred badge of the High Homer, and read upon it the
pregnant inscription: "ARNAUX, 2590 C."



BADLANDS BILLY
The Wolf that Won

I

THE HOWL BY NIGHT

Do you know the three calls of the hunting Wolf:--the long-drawn
deep howl, the muster, that tells of game discovered but too
strong for the finder to manage alone; and the higher ululation
that ringing and swelling is the cry of the pack on a hot scent;
and the sharp bark coupled with a short howl that, seeming least
of all, is yet a gong of doom, for this is the cry "Close
in"--this is the finish?

We were riding the Badland Buttes, King and I, with a pack of
various hunting Dogs stringing behind or trotting alongside. The