"Of course, that's so," Jack assented. "I know sometimes back East I've told about common everyday things that happened here, and the people I was talking to thought at first that I was just inventing stories. Have you seen a great many of these half-breed wolves? I mean crossed between a dog and big wolves, not coyotes?" "Yes," said Hugh; "in my time I've seen quite a number; but most of 'em had been brought up at home with their mothers. They were always timid and afraid of strangers, but they never did any particular harm around the house, except maybe to kill chickens, or something like that. Of course, a wolf--or a dog either, for the matter of that--always likes to hunt; and if anything runs, it's bound to chase it. You recollect, I reckon, some tame coyotes that Charley Powell had one while several years ago, and don't you remember that he had to kill one of them because it got into the way of killing his chickens?" "That's so," answered Jack; "I remember that now. But I never heard that those big wolves he and Bessie had ever did any harm." "No," replied Hugh, "neither did I." Tulare Joe, who had been sitting by listening to this talk, now asked a question. "Mr. Johnson, have you ever seen any black wolves in this country?" "Not in this country; but way farther south I saw one once; and down there they have red wolves, as you've probably seen yourself. I saw black wolf skins out on the Coast." "Yes," said Joe, "down in Texas I've seen red wolves myself, but it didn't look to me as if they were as big as these gray wolves that we have up in this country. Anyhow, down in the southern country most of the animals like those we have up here seem much smaller: the deer are smaller, and it seems to me that the wolves and the antelope don't run so large. The jack-rabbits, though, are bigger; but then they're not just like our jack-rabbits up here--they're some different." By this time the fire was burning low and the boys were leaving it to spread down their beds at different points on the prairie. The discussion of wolves was given up. Hugh smoked a last pipe, and presently they all went to bed. CHAPTER XIV A BAD MAN As Jack and Joe and three or four of the older men lounged around the fire a night or two after that, most of the younger boys having gone to their blankets, McIntyre turned to Hugh. "Who do you suppose I saw to-day on the range?" he asked. Hugh looked up inquiringly. "Claib Wood." "What's he doing here?" asked Hugh. "I thought he'd been run out of the country and had gone to stay."