"Were they wolves?" asked Stamford, eager to believe mere dogs had not so shattered his nerves.
"Come down from the north, I guess," explained Dakota.
"But how could they cross the river?" queried the Professor. "They must have a better ford than I use."
"Hm-m! Perhaps they drifted up from the Cypress Hills, or across from the west. Maybe they smelt the little shaver here. If they ever got after him they'd shore peel the bark offen him. I'll be warning the boys to keep a look-out on the calves. I wouldn't like to meet the beggars on the prairie without a horse, no, not even with an arsenal on me. They're dangerous devils."
"Isabel!" The Professor was looking anxiously at his sister. "I guess we'd better hasten our task. This isn't safe for you. Wolves! Gr-r-r! It sounds uncivilised."
Dakota shook his head gravely and left. Imp tagged humbly at his heels.
"Of course," the Professor grinned, "if there are only the two we heard last night, I might be able to satisfy them myself. A couple of hundred pounds ought to hold them for one meal. At any rate, I'd make a point of lying so heavy on their innards that you'd have a chance to escape, Isabel."
He looked out through the window to the ranch buildings. Dakota had picked up Imp and was hurrying along with the little terrier tucked under his arm.
"I think, Isabel, we'll try this side of the river to-day. That Monodonious skull can wait another day. It's managed to stick it long enough to forgive another twenty-four hours, don't you think? I'll get the horses."
He lumbered off along the path to the stables, calling as he passed the cook-house for a good Samaritan to lend him a hand in deciding which end of the harness went first on Gee-Gee. Bean Slade beat the Dude and General to it, while the Professor watched proceedings as if it were a new experience.