Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-12-09
CHASED BY WOLVES.
A Young Pioneers Escape from
 the Ferocious Beasts.

It was in the early part or 1870 that my father settled among the cotton wood trees of Major creek, one of the many streams watering the fertile San Luis valley of Colorado. The country was wild enough in those days. Deer and antelope in abundance ranged the foothills of the Sangre de Christo mountains, whose snow-capped peaks threw a shadow over our sod-roofed cabin until far into the morning.
 Skullzing coyotes, and yet more cow ardiy Indians, travelled up. and down the broad valley that opened out grandly to the south and west of us, extending in sunny sweep of twenty miles to the swiftlY-rising heights of the Saguache and Chochetope ranges, while other neighbors, such as mountain lions. cinnamon and silver-tip bears, made stockman's life burden to him. Last and most dangerous were band of the huge gray timber wolves.
 There are no wild animals more to be dreaded than these same timber wolves, especially when pressed by hunger. Then they become veritable demons, and woe upon the living thing whose trail they happen to cross.
 They at once begin a merciless chase and continue it untiringly, rivaling in speed and endurance the most sinewy horse. Nothing daunts them. Shoot one down and he is instantly devoured by the rest of the pack, who thereupon rush forward with unchecked courage and appetites but whetted by their unnatural feast. Fire alone can hold them at bay.
 With these ugly brutes it was my luck to have an adventure the second spring after we settled on Major creek. was then lad of fifteen, small of my age, but wiry, and as capable of enduring fa- tigue as any man, while no one in the valley could excel me in riding after cattle, throwing lasso or sticking to a bucking broncho.
 In carly days in Colorado it was the custom to let stock, both horses and cat tie, rustic for themselves'-i e., run at large on the dry grass of tho range during the cold season; but the first winter we were in the valley the wild animals were so mischievous that we were compelled to herd every beast we had from fall to spring. The grass was unusually late in starting up that year, hence all of our stock, even our riding animals, grew very thin.
 And thereby hangs my tale," for one evening, in the latter part of March, particularly cranky old COW broke away from the herd as we were round- ing the cattle up, preparatory to driving them to the corral for the night, and, our horses being so weak and poor, neither my brother nor myself could overtake the runaway.
 But when we reported the loss at the supper-table that night, mother was much vexed, as the missing COW was her pet milker.
 "You must hunt her up tomorrow, boys," she said, earnestly.
 ''No use, mother" my brother Horace replied. Something has eaten her up before now"
 q am not so sure of that" father re- marked. Don't you remember how last spring we found her standing of a mountain lion from her calf? You had better look for her little tomorrow. " That settled the matter, of course, so in the morning I herded the stock, while Horace rode among the foothills to the south of us, and, as he was un. successful in his search, that afternoon left the cattle with him and started of to tho northward, hoping to find some trace of our stray by the time ] reached Steel Canyon, if not before. My pony seemed to be too nearly worn out by his mornings work for so long a ride that day; so I first went home and exchanged my broncho for fathers vel. low cayeuse, which happened to be standing in the stable.
 Right here let me explain that 'bron. cho'' is Colorado vernacular for a native pony, while 'cayeuse" is the Montana term for the same animal Fathers | pet riding horse, Selim, had been brought from the latter State, hence we usually called him by the local name.
 As was changing my saddle from one pony to the other, mother came out to the corral with stcaming cup of strong coffee for my refreshment, and, when l rode away, repeated her injunc.