Prairie-wolves have all the ferocity of their race, but no creature could be more cowardly. Of course no one fears them under ordinary circumstances, but they have been known to make a combined attack upon persons disabled, and in severe weather, when they themselves were rendered unusually savage by hunger, as already stated. But they are not regarded with fear either by traveller or hunter; and the latter disdains to waste his charge upon such worthless game. Our guide, Ike, was an exception to this rule. He was the only one of his sort that shot prairie-wolves, and he did so "on sight." I believe if it had been the last bullet in his pouch, and an opportunity had offered of sending it into a prairie-wolf, he would have despatched the leaden missile. We asked him how many he had killed in his time. He drew a small notched stick from his "possible sack," and desired us to count the notches upon it. We did so. There were one hundred and forty-five in all. "You have killed one hundred and forty-five, then?" cried we, astonished at the number. "Yes, i'deed," replied he, with a quiet chuckle, "that many dozen; for every 'un of them nutches count twelve. I only make a nutch when I've throwed the clur dozen." "A hundred and forty-five dozen!" we repeated in astonishment; and yet I have no doubt of the truth of the trapper's statement, for he had no interest in deceiving us. I am satisfied from what I knew of him, that he had slain the full number stated--one thousand seven hundred and forty! Of course we became curious to learn the cause of his antipathy to the prairie-wolves; for we knew he had an antipathy, and it was that that had induced him to commit such wholesale havoc among these creatures. It was from this circumstance he had obtained the soubriquet of "wolf-killer." By careful management, we at last got him upon the edge of the stray, and quietly pushed him into it. He gave it to us as follows:-- "Wal, strengers, about ten winters agone, I wur travellin' from Bent's Fort on the Arkensaw, to 'Laramie on the Platte, all alone by myself. I had undertuk the journey on some business for Bill Bent--no matter now what. "I had crossed the divide, and got within sight o' the Black Hills, when one night I had to camp out on the open parairy, without either bush or stone to shelter me. "That wur, perhaps, the coldest night this nigger remembers; thur wur a wind kim down from the mountains that wud a froze the bar off an iron dog. I gathered my blanket around me, but that wind whistled through it as if it had been a rail-fence. "'Twan't no use lyin' down, for I couldn't a slep, so I sot up.