Taking advantage of the situation, the pony trotted past Ted, who scarcely gave it a look, and went on to the corral back of the house.
"So it's going to be a fight," said Ted, advancing cautiously toward the wolf. "All right, old chap; I'll give you something to think about, if I do not leave you on the ground entirely incapable of thinking. I wish I'd gone after my Winchester now. That would have made it too short, though. Come on, now. All I have is a short knife blade against four sharp fangs, and you are as brave as the devil himself."
The wolf had not stirred except that his nose was constantly working as he sniffed the air for Ted.
Ted knew that a wolf that will stand and fight a man by himself is possessed of more than ordinary courage and brains, and, therefore, he was on the lookout for the tricks of the fight.
It was well that he was so versed, for before he was quite ready for it the wolf, without a sound, leaped straight through the air at his throat. He had just time to dodge aside, and make a vicious swipe with his knife.
But his blade did not touch the wolf, whose leap carried him several feet past Ted. Had the wolf succeeded in striking Ted, they would inevitably have gone down together, and Ted would have had none the best of it.
But the battle between Ted, the skilled huntsman and wolf exterminator, and the wily wolf, whose scarred hide told of many battles with bull and dog, wild cat and man, serpent of the desert, and the eagles of the mountains, when, in his dire hunger, he had raided their families.
The wolf slid a few feet, then swung himself around like a top and came at Ted again.
Ted was wiser this time, and dodged just out of the way. At the same time he gave a vicious side lunge with the knife, and he felt it enter the wolf's hide. There was a ripping sound, and he knew he had added a scar to the brute's large collection.
The wolf was now thoroughly angry, and snarled its fury as it wheeled once more to the attack.