On a rock pinnacle overlooking the wolves’ bedding ground, the great white leader stood guard, his eyes never still, moving from side to side as he watched for any approaching danger. Spotted Tail remained awake as long as he could, but soon his eyes felt very tired. He was about to drop off to sleep when he noticed the pack stirring. He gazed out into the shadows of the night and the leader seemed to be staring right through the brush and trees into Spotted Tail’s hiding place. Then Spotted Tail saw the reason for the movement: a deer had wandered to within a short distance of the wolves, and now the pack was preparing to kill this unsuspecting victim. The leader seemed to bark instructions and suddenly the pack was up and circling the deer. There was a mad rush and suddenly the excitement was over, the booty was shared, and the pack settled down once again. Spotted Tail breathed a sigh of relief, for the pack in chasing the deer had come too close for comfort to his hiding place in the thick brush. Dawn was fast approaching, and now the pack was on the move once again. Spotted Tail followed as close as he dared, making sure that he kept downwind from these lean hungry wolves that had caused death and starvation to come to his People. Then he got an idea. If he could get a good shot in and wound or even kill the leader, it might have the same effect as if a chief died, the pack would be without a leader and might be so disorganized that the hunters from his tribe, who he was sure were fast approaching, would be able to make easy work of the rest of the pack. Then the opportunity came his way. There standing off to the side of the pack was the large white leader. Spotted Tail settled himself upon one knee in the snow and drawing careful aim with his bow, he let fly. The arrow seemed to go right through the great beast and he leaped high in the air. Spotted Tail was about to shout of his great shot to the heavens when he saw that the wolf had come to rest on all fours and was turned now in his direction, his teeth bared and a terrible snarl coming from deep within his throat. Gathered behind the great white wolf like an army, was the rest of the pack, snarling and waiting for the orders from their leader, but the leader seemed to warn them away—this was his kill—and slowly began moving toward Spotted Tail. Spotted Tail stood firm and placed another arrow to his bowstring. He fired again, and the arrow again seemed to go straight to its mark but still the beast kept moving forward. Now the wolf began to run in a steady loping trot toward the Indian and suddenly he was leaping.