the ranch houses.  They even venture into the hamlet of Medora itself at night—­as the coyotes sometimes do by day.  In the spring of ’92 we put on some eastern two-year-old steers; they arrived, and were turned loose from the stock-yards, in a snowstorm, though it was in early May.  Next morning we found that one had been seized, slain, and partially devoured by a big wolf at the very gate of the stockyard; probably the beast had seen it standing near the yard after nightfall feeling miserable after its journey, in the storm and its unaccustomed surroundings, and had been emboldened to make the assault so near town by the evident helplessness of the prey.

The big timber wolves of the northern Rocky Mountains attack every four-footed beast to be found where they live.  They are far from contenting themselves with hunting deer and snapping up the pigs and sheep of the farm.  When the weather gets cold and food scarce they band together in small parties, perhaps of four or five individuals, and then assail anything, even a bear or a panther.  A bull elk or bull moose, when on its guard, makes a most dangerous fight; but a single wolf will frequently master the cow of either animal, as well as domestic cattle and horses.  In attacking such large game, however, the wolves like to act in concert, one springing at the animal’s head, and attracting its attention, while the other hamstrings it.  Nevertheless, one such big wolf will kill an ordinary horse.  A man I knew, who was engaged in packing into the Coeur d’Alenes, once witnessed such a feat on the part of a wolf.  He was taking his pack train down into a valley when he saw a horse grazing therein; it had been turned loose by another packing outfit, because it became exhausted.  He lost sight of it as the trail went down a zigzag, and while it was thus out of sight he suddenly heard it utter the appalling scream, unlike and more dreadful than any other sound, which a horse only utters in extreme fright or agony.  The scream was repeated, and as he came in sight again he saw that a great wolf had attacked the horse.  The poor animal had been bitten terribly in its haunches and was cowering upon them, while the wolf stood and looked at it a few paces off.  In a moment or two the horse partially recovered and made a desperate bound forward, starting at full gallop.  Immediately the wolf was after it, overhauled it in three or four jumps, and then seized it by the hock, while its legs were extended, with such violence as to bring it completely back on its haunches.  It again screamed piteously; and this time with a few savage snaps the wolf hamstrung and partially disembowelled it, and it fell over, having made no attempt to defend itself.  I have heard of more than once incident of this kind.  If a horse is a good fighter, however, as occasionally, though not often, happens, it is a more difficult prey for any wild beast, and some veteran horses have no fear of wolves whatsoever, well knowing that they can either strike them down with their forefeet or repulse them by lashing out behind.