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 wolf following at a distance. Each time he sent a bullet singing at him, but the wolf ran and jumped with such frantic bounds that he missed him. "It's the queerest thing I have ever heard of," he said after the last shot. "Usually if you shoot at a wolf once, that is all he wants of you, but this darned fool wolf seems to like to be shot at. He certainly is clever."

That night he piled the campfire still higher, but even so, once when he awoke he saw a gray shape forty feet away in the edge of the thicket, or thought he did, for everything now looked like a gray wolf. But he could see the outline and the two gleaming eyes. He reached very stealthily for his revolver, but slight as the movement was the animal seemed to detect it and sprang into the thick cover. But Richard sent three bullets singing after the marauder.

The following day the Phantom Wolf, as Richard now called the gray shape, had so gotten on his nerves that he gave up the