The pack was led by old White Fang, the cowboys said, and they could do
nothing with him. Whatever traps they laid for him were upset by the
cunning of the old rascal, and he made life miserable for the men
responsible for the cattle.
"What are we going to do about him?" said the major one day to Ted. "I
suppose we'd better organize a big hunt, and drive the wolves out of the
country."
"No use," said Ted. "The old beggar would hide in the mountains until it
was over, and then renew the attack on you."
"What do you propose, then?"
"I'm going out after him myself, and I'll not come back until I get
him."
Stella, who was curled up in a big chair in the living room reading,
looked up quickly when Ted said this, and smiled out of the corner of
her mouth, for she scented sport in this.
"I think I'll go along," said the major.
"I'd like to have you, major, but it won't do this time. You are too
heavy a rider. It will take a light rider to turn the trick with White
Fang," answered Ted, and the major looked a bit taken back.
But Stella chuckled to herself. If it took a light rider, she was in
that class.
Later in the day she saw Ted and Bud go toward the corral. Ted carried
in his hand a new, strong Mexican lariat.
She watched them a few minutes before she realized their mission.
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