Fred did not, but the opportunity was too good to be lost. The aim was inviting, and, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted as best he could and pulled the trigger. He could not have done better had the sun been shining. The bullet passed directly through the skull of the wolf, which uttered a sharp yelp, leaped several feet into the air, and, doubling up like a jack-knife, fell upon his side, where, after several convulsive struggles, he lay still. Naturally enough, the boy was elated over his success, for the shot was certainly an excellent one. "There!" he said. "Jack frightened off the Indians, and I think I have given the wild animals a good lesson. At any rate, _you_ won't bother us any more." He supposed that the report of the gun would awaken Hazletine and bring him to the spot to learn the explanation, but nothing of that nature followed. If the report disturbed him, he merely opened and closed his eyes, and continued to slumber, after the manner of one who appreciates the value of rest. In truth, it was always a matter of wonderment to the boys that their veteran guide adopted the course he followed that night. That actual danger impended was proven by the incidents already narrated, and yet he entrusted the safety of one of the boys, as well as his own life, to another, who, until then, had never been in a similar position. Why he did so would be hard to explain, but he never admitted that his course was a mistake. Sometimes, as is well known, a boy is taught to swim by flinging him into deep water, where he must choose between keeping afloat and drowning; and it may be the guide believed that, by tossing his young friends into the midst of danger at the very beginning of their experience as Western hunters, they would acquire the needed skill the more quickly. CHAPTER V. "NOW FOR THE RANCH." One of the singular features connected with the experience of our young friends during the first night they spent in Wyoming was that all the danger which threatened them came from one Indian and from one _lupus_. After Jack Dudley had expelled the prowling buck, the intruder took good care to remain away. Neither he nor any of his companions troubled the campers further. The presumption, therefore, was that this solitary specimen was a "dog Indian," or vagrant, wandering over the country on his own account. Such fellows, as already explained, claim no kinship with any tribe, but are, like the tramps of civilized society, agents for themselves alone.