Soon the wolves became so reckless that they dashed into the trail, partly surrounding the horse. Then they began to leap at its nose, and sought to strike their teeth into its legs for the purpose of hamstringing it, after the manner in which they were accustomed to bring down deer and other game.
The scout shot one that sprang at the horse’s head; and then dropped another that had leaped to the horse’s haunches.
“Downed ’em, ye did!” cried Pizen Jane. “Good for you! It makes me ’most love ye, Buffler, to see you drop ’em like that.”
He made no answer save a grunt of wrath.
“Buffler,” Pizen Jane cackled, “I know you’re enj’yin’ my society, even if the wolves is chasin’ us!”
“I should feel better if you were not here,” he answered, quite frankly.
“Why, Buffler?”
“Because of the wolves. You have no need to ask.”
He fired at another.
It fell with a yelp, being only wounded; but immediately its ferocious comrades sprang on it, tearing it to pieces almost instantly, being rendered savage beyond belief by the scent of its flowing blood.