They rode easily toward the wolf, who looked up at them with a wise, sidewise twist of his hoary old head, but did not increase his speed any.
"He's tolling us into the hills where he can easily get lost," said Ted. "Don't let him do it! Head him off! Turn him back to the prairie."
Diverging, they rode parallel with White Fang again, and, before he suspected their maneuver, they were ahead of him, and began to close in.
But finally White Fang stopped and watched them for a moment, then deliberately turned and set off on the back trail at a smart lope along the ridge he had come.
"I wish we had a couple of Russian wolfhounds here," said Ted, as the three were breezing along in the trail of White Fang. "That would make it something like a chase."
"I'm bettin' that ole galoot will give us somethin' ter do before we ketch up with him, at that," said Bud.
"Close up on him," said Ted. "He's having too good a time."
They let their horses out a notch or two, and closed up on White Fang, who was off the ridge by this time, and galloping across the prairie.
The old wolf did not seem to have as much steam in him as usual, and loped along in easy fashion, occasionally looking over his shoulder at them, apparently gauging the distance and their speed.
"The only way to get close to him is to spurt when he isn't thinking about it," said Ted. "Let 'em out!"