He was very tired from his long following of the southern migration, but showed the wolf's typical cunning in selecting his bedding spot. It was on high ground along the very edge of a rocky canon overlooking a swift-tumbling river. There was a good moon, and no trees blocked his view of the surr...
The place was a shambles. What his first-chance glance around it didn’t tell him, the low voice of Nella Torneau did. “They showed up about an hour ahead of you, mister,” she said. “They rode straight in and stopped their ponies about fifty yards out. That brave in the black skins is their leader...