The big buckskin was the last to pass Smoky, he was busy keeping two little colts just a few months old from lagging behind too far, bucking the deep snow at the speed the bunch was making was beginning to show on 'em and it was taking a lot of persuading from the big horse to keep them little fellers on the move.
The wolves was steady catching up with the bunch and the attack would of took place some sooner if it hadn't been for Smoky. His lagging behind had fooled the wolves into thinking that the mouse colored gelding had quit and was ready to make his last stand. It had been Smoky's intention to wait for the killers and paw the daylight out of 'em, but as the three rushed in on him he figgered it a good idea to postpone the pawing for a while and do a little running till he was some acquainted with their ways and tricks.
Head and tail up and fire in his eyes he lined out and led the wolves away from the bunch. They'd figgered on making him their victim on account he was the handiest but as the chase kept up they found the gelding had a powerful lot of speed left in him. In the meantime Smoky had somehow lost all hankering of stopping and fight it out with 'em, there was something about the three hungry looking crethures that kept him a moving and his instinct was warning him strong that he should keep some safe distance between him and them.
He was doing that the best he could and as the running kept up and the wolves couldn't get any closer they finally figgered they was wasting their time. May be he got to looking too old and tough for 'em and calculated they'd rather have younger and more tender meat, besides he was leading 'em straight away from the bunch which might make 'em lose their chances of getting anything at all.
Smoky's play of leading the wolves off that way had been a great relief to the bunch and mostly the young colts, they'd had a chance to slow down some and get their second wind, and when the killers showed up on their trail once again they was all more able to sashay on and keep from reach of their tearing fangs.
When Smoky found that the wolves had left him and turned back towards the bunch, it was his natural instinct to turn too and follow up in their tracks, he had a hunch somehow that he'd be needed there and he hadn't altogether lost the hope of a chance of taking apart at least one of the outlaws.
It was a long and mighty hard run back till he caught up with the bunch again, but Smoky wasn't the horse he was for nothing, he made it in near as good a time as the wolves themselves, and he got there just as the wolves circled around past the buckskin and headed for one of the colts he'd been hazing.
The buckskin hadn't hardly been noticed, the wolves had passed him up as too old specially when there was such as the young colts which could be got easy. The old horse had watched 'em catch up with the bunch and go past him for a younger victim, he had no way to know that they didn't want him, and he could of kept well in the lead of the bunch if he'd wanted to but he'd made hisself guardian over the little colts and he couldn't for the life of him have left 'em behind. Of course the little fellers' mammies would of fought for 'em too but they was at the stage where they felt every horse was for himself, they'd scared into a stampede and was all a running for their own lives.
The old buckskin knowed wolves, he knowed they had their eye on him and it was best to keep neutral till they'd got over being watched of every move he'd make, and as the three greys passed him and was gaining on the scared little colts he kept to one side and watched. It was just as the leader made a leap for one of the little fellers' ham strings that the big buckskin came to life, made a leap too and went to fighting at the risk of his own life.
The wolves hadn't looked for no such move from him, they'd got over watching and figgered he was far behind and had put all their attention on dragging down the victim they'd picked. It was a mighty big surprise for them when from behind the big buckskin landed on the second wolf and buried him in the snow while on his way to the first. A good sized hoof came down just as that first wolf turned his head to meet the fighting buckskin. That hoof connected with his lower jaw as he made the turn and left that jaw hanging limp and plum useless.—When the old pony looked back for the other wolves there was long grey hairs sticking between his teeth.