The wolf stood firmly at the mouth of his den, awaiting the approach of Cinch with a sort of self-satisfied look, as though he would tear to pieces that civilized specimen of his own genus. With a growl and a snapping of their great white teeth they came together. How the hair did fly as they bit whole mouthfuls out of each other! It was an awful struggle for canine supremacy. Every one of the party abandoned his quarry elsewhere—although Bluey was making a glorious fight with another monster not a hundred yards away, and the rest of the pack were hard at work on a number that had attacked them in concert—to witness the battle royal between Cinch and the largest wolf that they had ever seen.
At last Cinch succeeded in getting a firm hold on his shaggy antagonist's throat. It proved to be a "knock-out," for when Cinch had done with him, the wolf was stretched out dead. The hound himself did not escape without serious wounds. His fore paws were bitten through and through. One of his eyes was badly torn, and great pieces of hide hung in strings from several parts of his body. He was nearly done for, so badly hurt, that the General told one of his orderlies to take the poor dog on the saddle in front of him, and carry him back to the fort for repairs.
They then turned their attention to Bluey. By the time they came up to him he had just finished his antagonist as completely as had Cinch. The wolf was dead, and the old hound was busy licking his own wounds, of which he had many.
The rest of the pack which had been fighting together had killed four, but two of their number had succumbed to the fierce attacks of their opponents, and were dead. Joe and Rob were delighted to know that Bluey and Brutus were all right after the several battles, excepting a few bites which would soon heal.
In taking an inventory of the number of wolves killed by the hounds, they found seven in all. Their hides were so badly torn that they were not worth skinning, so their carcasses were left just where they fell.
It was considered a good morning's work, as it was but eleven o'clock when Cinch had put the finishing touches on his victim. The men were tired after their rough ride, and the hounds slowly followed, tongues out, and many of them limping fearfully. In this way they rode together back to the mouth of the Oxhide, then separated and went to their respective homes.