"I've seen a number of cases," Mason continued, "where animals have been killed by wolves and I've always been interested in hearing about this hamstringing, so I've paid particular attention to the condition of that part of the leg, trying to see whether the tendon was ever cut, and I never have seen a case when it was cut." "That's a new idea to me," repeated Jack. "I'd like to get more light on it. Did you ever talk about it to Hugh? He's been on the prairie an awful long time." "No; I don't think that I ever talked about it to anybody at all; but I'm like you, I'd like to know whether it is gospel or not. At all events, it's what I've seen, and I think it's reason, too." "It does seem reasonable," said Jack. "Let's ask Hugh when we get in to-night. Meantime we'll try to push along this cripple and let McIntyre decide what's to be done with him." It was late in the afternoon when the herd was turned out to feed near the camp; and at night, soon after McIntyre got in, Jack told him the story of the crippled steer, and asked what should be done with it. "Whose is it?" asked McIntyre. "One of the Sturgis steers." "Well," said McIntyre, "you and old man Johnson can decide what's to be done with it; and whatever you say goes." Hugh, when consulted, thought that the best thing was to leave it behind them on the prairie, and that it must take its chances of living or dying. With rest and feed it would probably recover, but if driven along with the herd it would be sure to get worse and finally would have to be killed. "All right," McIntyre consented; "when we move from here we'll leave it, and let it take its chance. We'll stop over here to-morrow, and cut and brand." That night as they sat around the fire, Jack asked Mason to tell Hugh what he thought took place when an animal is hamstrung, and then asked Hugh what his beliefs were about the matter. "Why," replied Hugh, as he stuffed down the fire in his pipe with a callous forefinger, "of course, Mason is dead right. I supposed everybody knew that. Hamstringing buffalo and stock means, I suppose, crippling them by hurting that big tendon above the hock. I've heard that in old days sometimes the Mexicans, and maybe the Indians too, used to ride up behind a buffalo with a right sharp saber or machete and by making a strong downward stroke did actually cut the hamstring and hurt the buffalo so that it had only three legs to go on; but I never supposed that anybody thought a wolf could really cut a hamstring through in that way. It's just the way Jack Mason says, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, and you'll find that most mountain men and most Indians who have seen anything will tell you just the same thing.