face a human being. Indeed, the set policy of his band was to take
refuge in flight whenever, in the daytime, a man was descried, no
matter at what distance. Lobo's habit of permitting the pack to eat
only that which they themselves had killed, was in numerous cases
their salvation, and the keenness of his scent to detect the taint of
human hands or the poison itself, completed their immunity.

On one occasion, one of the cowboys heard the too familiar
rallying-cry of Old Lobo, and, stealthily approaching, he found the
Currumpaw pack in a hollow, where they had 'rounded' up a small
herd of cattle. Lobo sat apart on a knoll, while Blanca with the rest
was endeavoring to 'cut out' a young cow, which they had selected;
but the cattle were standing in a compact mass with their heads
outward, and presented to the foe a line of horns, unbroken save
when some cow, frightened by a fresh onset of the wolves, tried to
retreat into the middle of the herd. It was only by taking advantage
of these breaks that the wolves had succeeded at all in wounding
the selected cow, but she was far from being disabled, and it
seemed that Lobo at length lost patience with his followers, for he
left his position on the hill, and, uttering a deep roar, dashed
toward the herd. The terrified rank broke at his charge, and he
sprang in among them. Then the cattle scattered like the pieces of
a bursting bomb. Away went the chosen victim, but ere she had
gone twenty-five yards Lobo was upon her. Seizing her by the
neck, he suddenly held back with all his force and so threw her
heavily to the ground. The shock must have been tremendous, for
the heifer was thrown heels over head. Lobo also turned a
somersault, but immediately recovered himself, and his followers
falling on the poor cow, killed her in a few seconds. Lobo took no
part in the killing--after having thrown the victim, he seemed to