defiant; but alas for them, no common wolf was heading this
attack. Old Lobo, the werewolf, knew as well as the shepherds that
the goats were the moral force of the flock, so, hastily running
over the backs of the densely packed sheep, he fell on these
leaders, slew them all in a few minutes, and soon had the luckless
sheep stampeding in a thousand different directions. For weeks
afterward I was almost daily accosted by some anxious shepherd,
who asked, "Have you seen any stray OTO sheep lately?" and
usually I was obliged to say I had; one day it was, "Yes, I came on
some five or six carcasses by Diamond Springs"; or another, it was
to the effect that I had seen a small "bunch" running on the Malpai
Mesa; or again, "No, but Juan Meira saw about twenty, freshly
killed, on the Cedra Monte two days ago."

At length the wolf traps arrived, and with two men I worked a
whole week to get them properly set out. We spared no labor or
pains, I adopted every device I could think of that might help to
insure success. The second day after the traps arrived, I rode
around to inspect, and soon came upon Lobo's trail running from
trap to trap. In the dust I could read the whole story of his doings
that night. He had trotted along in the darkness, and although the
traps were so carefully concealed, he had instantly detected the
first one. Stopping the onward march of the pack, he had
cautiously scratched around it until he had disclosed the trap, the
chain, and the log, then left them wholly exposed to view with the
trap still unsprung, and passing on he treated over a dozen traps in
the same fashion. Very soon I noticed that he stopped and turned
aside as soon as he detected suspicious signs on the trail, and a
new plan to outwit him at once suggested itself. I set the traps in
the form of an H; that is, with a row of traps on each side of the