and pretty soon they were after a wolf and Pa led out ahead on his
racing pony, cheered by the yells of the squaws, and it was a fine
race for about two miles. Pa and the cowboy and the big game
hunter and I got ahead of the squaws, and after awhile we got up
pretty near to the wolf, and the big game hunter said to pa: "Now,
old man, is your chance to make yourself solid with the squaws.
We will hold hack and when the dogs get the wolf surrounded you
rush in and kill him or your name's Dennis." Pa said: "You watch
my smoke, and see me eat that wolf alive." So we held up our
horses, and let Pa go ahead. He rode up to the wolf, and I never
saw a man with such luck as Pa had. Just as he got near the wolf
and the animal showed his teeth, Pa tried to steer his horse away
from the savage animal, but the horse stumbled in a prairie dog
hole, and fell right on top of the wolf, crushing the life out of
the animal, and throwing Pa over his head. Pa was stunned, but he
soon came to, and when he realized that the wolf was dead, he
grabbed the animal by the neck with one hand, and by the lower jaw
with the other, and held on to it till the crowd came up, and
when the squaws saw that Pa had killed the biggest wolf ever seen
on the reservation, by rushing in single handed and choking the
savage animal to death, they gave Pa an ovation that was enough to
turn the head of any man. Us white fellows knew that Pa couldn't
have been hired to go near that wolf until the horse fell on it
and killed it, but we wanted to give Pa a reputation for bravery,
and so we let the squaws compliment Pa and hug him, and make him
think he was a holy terror. So they tied the wolf on the saddle in
front of pa, and we all went back to camp, the squaws shouting for
pa, and telling the Indians how the great white father had
strangled the father of all wolves, and then the Indians served
the fish supper, and all looked as though there had been a