They rode easily toward the wolf, who looked up at them with a wise, sidewise twist of his hoary old head, but did not increase his speed any. "He's tolling us into the hills where he can easily get lost," said Ted. "Don't let him do it! Head him off! Turn him back to the prairie." Diverging, they rode parallel with White Fang again, and, before he suspected their maneuver, they were ahead of him, and began to close in. But finally White Fang stopped and watched them for a moment, then deliberately turned and set off on the back trail at a smart lope along the ridge he had come. "I wish we had a couple of Russian wolfhounds here," said Ted, as the three were breezing along in the trail of White Fang. "That would make it something like a chase." "I'm bettin' that ole galoot will give us somethin' ter do before we ketch up with him, at that," said Bud. "Close up on him," said Ted. "He's having too good a time." They let their horses out a notch or two, and closed up on White Fang, who was off the ridge by this time, and galloping across the prairie. The old wolf did not seem to have as much steam in him as usual, and loped along in easy fashion, occasionally looking over his shoulder at them, apparently gauging the distance and their speed. "The only way to get close to him is to spurt when he isn't thinking about it," said Ted. "Let 'em out!" A prick of the spur sent their horses forward on the leap. Ted was coiling his rope in his hand ready for a cast, and Stella and Bud followed his example. "When we get close enough to throw, scatter out, and be ready to let your rope go if either of us misses. All ready now!" Ted dashed forward, swinging his rope around his head, and when he was close enough he made a beautiful cast and the rope went through the air as true as a bullet, hovering in a sinuous loop above White Fang. But just as it was about to settle the wily old rascal dodged to one side, and the rope fell into the sand. "He's a cute chap," shouted Ted, bringing in his rope without slackening his speed, while Bud's rope flew through the air and missed the wolf by about a foot. Stella was in a bad position to throw, and withheld her rope. Again they closed in upon the wolf, who had begun to grow more wary and had hit up his speed, dodging and turning on his trail, making some swift turns and nimble feats of horsemanship necessary to keep within roping distance of him. In this manner a dozen or more unsuccessful casts were made. At last Ted got tired of the hide-and-seek game, and determined to end it. "I'm going to get him this time," he shouted, gathering his rope firmly. "Back me up!" He dashed at White Fang, with Bud and Stella on either side of him. Swinging his rope about his head, Ted watched his opportunity. Suddenly the loop left his hand and shot as unerringly toward the wolf as if it had left the muzzle of a rifle.