All language subtitles for The Legend of Lobo

(♪ Rex Allen: The Legend of Lobo)

♪ Around the lonely campfire

♪ When the wolves begin to call

♪ The riders tell a story

♪ Of the bravest wolf of all

♪ The king of all the hunters

♪ Born to lead the rest

♪ His name became a legend

♪ Across the great southwest

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Your name will survive

♪ For no man could bring you in

♪ Dead or alive

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Your name will survive

♪ For no man could bring you in

♪ Dead

♪ Or alive ♪

Like everything else, a good
legend's got to have a good beginning.

The right bloodline,
you might say.

This one began even before Lobo's time,

with a wolf famous in his own right.

He was a big, rangy fella,

used to roam a wide piece
of the territory.

Back when it was still empty
and mighty fine to look at.

Around the neighborhood,
he was known as "The Fierce One."

In the local Spanish, "El Feroz."

The vaqueros had a great deal
of respect for him, too.

Fact is, it amounted to
a kind of a superstition.

Some of them claiming
he was a spirit wolf.

Well, this El Feroz was Lobo's father.

So, for breed and blood,
Lobo came from a good line.

It is in the spring of '89 he was born,

a litter of five pups,
two brothers and a couple of sisters.

That's about the usual family
for wolves.

Now, these young 'uns are off to a good
start on a number of counts.

For one thing, they were lucky
just to have an El Feroz for their dad.

It's a common thing in nature for
the male animal to kill his offspring,

if he can get to 'em.

But the wolf's different,
he's about the best parent there is,

because he's gentle with his young.

The wolf's loyal, too.

Something most folks don't realize is,
that wolves mate for life.

It's for all time.

The male and the female
both being devoted to each other,

and the family.

For a real fine domestic arrangement,

there's probably not another one
like it anywhere in nature.

At six weeks of age,
Lobo wasn't much of a legend.

Not yet, anyway.

He was bright-eyed
and full of mischief,

but he looked exactly
like his brothers and sisters.

At this stage of the game,

nobody would have bet on him
as the future king of the range.

About the only thing different, maybe,

he was a little more curious
than the rest of the litter.

He sort of liked to follow his nose,

find out what is going on
around the neighborhood.

But, being a little new at this,
he sometimes followed it too far.

Well, if you're gonna leave your common
sense at home when you go traveling,

you're bound to land in trouble.

Still, the school of hard knocks
isn't a bad place to start an education.

And Lobo caught on fast.

The truth was, all of his life,
he'd be one to learn from experience.

And what's more important,
store it up and remember it.

By now it was plain
that the pups were growing fast,

and about ready for good red meat.

So El Feroz checked over his bone yard
to see what was left.

The bone he finally dug up
was the last one.

Pretty slim pickings
for a hungry family.

About all it was good for
was a tug of war.

There wasn't enough nourishment
in this old soup bone to feed a canary.

El Feroz knew it was time
to go hunting again.

♪ To feed his hungry young ones

♪ El Feroz searched for game

♪ But there was not
a scent of prey

♪ Throughout his wild domain

♪ Across the endless wasteland

♪ His lonely trail had left

♪ And then at last he spied them

Pronghorn antelope,
his favorite prey.

♪ His family

♪ Would be fed ♪

An antelope's faster
than a jackrabbit on the takeoff.

But he can't keep it up forever.

The wolf, on the other hand,
is a stayer.

He can hold the pace for hours on end
when he wants to.

He can even outlast
a good, strong horse.

So this is how it was.

El Feroz was counting on
one of the herd falling behind.

Sure enough, a big pronghorn buck
pulled up, winded and heaving,

too tired to go another step.

Now the chase was over.
The rest would be easy.

Except that El Feroz wasn't in a hurry
to move in for the kill.

He began to work this antelope
like a good cutting horse,

heading it back in the direction
they had come.

This was an old, old trick.

If a wolf chased his prey
miles away from where he wanted it,

say a half day's journey
from a hungry family,

he didn't end things too soon.

Instead he'd send it along home
under its own power.

Back at the den, these little young 'uns
were being as patient as they could.

Excepting it wasn't natural

for pups to be very patient
when they were hungry.

They growled a little,
grumbled a little,

chewed on things, and generally
felt sorry for themselves.

If they'd only known it, they really had
something to complain about.

A cougar was poking around
in their vicinity.

And if he found them,
it could mean trouble,

real bad trouble.

When one of these big cats
was circulating,

nothing was safe.

Stealthy, tricky,
he'd sneak up soft and silent,

never betraying his presence.

Never giving a warning, either.

Seemed like right about now,
the wolves had been dealt a losing hand.

Then, at the last minute,
a wild card turned up.

There was something about cougars

that just naturally brought out hatred
in cowpunchers.

'Course, the big cats were death
on horses and other livestock,

but the resentment seemed
more than that almost.

It was kind of unreasoning,

and it generally took the form
of a rifle bullet.

Now, this went for wolves, too,
and right at this moment,

little Lobo couldn't know how close he
was to getting a lead slug of his own.

About that time, El Feroz
came home with part of his kill.

Right off, he knew something was wrong.

It didn't take him long
to unravel the mystery.

He could have figured it out
by the scent alone.

And catching sight of the riders
only confirmed his conclusions.

Humans had been here,
and they'd probably be back.

It was time to pull up stakes
and move on.

When the whereabouts of a wolf's den
isn't secret anymore,

he'll find himself a new one.

'Cause the one thing
he's got to have is privacy.

'Course, when that day comes,
Father just acts as guide.

It's Mother who does
all the toting and carrying.

"All right, dear, get a move on,
let's get going."

Since there was only room
for one passenger at a time,

each of the pups
had to wait his turn.

But Lobo wasn't in the mood
for waiting.

Like a stray on the tail end
of the herd,

he came tagging along behind,

doing his best to keep up.

It was getting plainer every minute
that he wasn't any mountain goat.

But if he wanted it this way,

his mother seemed willing
to let him work it out.

He wasn't a quitter, no, sir.

He stayed with it, and in the end,
he came out on top.

Now, once on the trail, the parents
moved along at a steady lope.

It was a little tough on the pups,

being short, coupled with short legs,
trying to keep up.

Now, there was no time for the sights.

No time to fool around with strangers.

Being the curious one,
Lobo stopped to say, "Howdy."

The tortoise wasn't much on hospitality.

He just wanted
to mind his own business.

Trouble was, he was getting
a lot of unwanted help.

Finally figuring to sidetrack
his escort,

the old slowpoke veered off the trail.

The sashaying was over, but the pup
was a little late getting the point.

By now, Lobo had forgotten
all about his parents.

It was sort of mutual.
Being concerned with house-hunting,

they had their minds
on other things, too.

The pup, meanwhile,
had taken up with a new sidekick,

another funny-looking critter
in a suit of armor.

Seemed like everybody
around here wore it.

Maybe this is what
made them all so standoffish.

Well, in the matter of being friendly,

Lobo decided it was up to him
to make the first move.

Now, an armadillo's got tender ears,

about the only thing on him
that's unprotected.

Hurt his ears and you've
hurt his feelings for sure.

All this time, the family had been
covering more and more ground,

getting farther and farther away.

And still, they hadn't missed Lobo.

So, at a rather young age,
he was left playing lone wolf

and finding it a bit tedious.

He was hot, tired and thirsty.

To make matters worse,
his feet hurt.

It kind of dawned on him,
long about this point,

that he was traveling in circles.

He was lost. Just about as lost
as they come.

Purely by accident, he stumbled on
to a catch basin of rainwater.

Just enough left for a quick drink,

and a soothing, cooling bath
for his aching feet.

His wet tracks would've been easy to
follow if anybody'd come along in time.

But that wasn't likely.

The family was a couple of canyons away

before they hauled up to count noses.

Now, wolves don't excite easy.

The fact that a pup was missing
didn't mean much.

They figured he was still
bringing up the rear as usual,

and he'd be along
in his own good time.

In making his rounds,

El Feroz had had his eye for quite
a spell on a deserted badger hole.

With a little fixing,
it'd do just fine for a den.

So, he took possession.

It appeared the place wasn't vacant
after all. A tenant was living here.

And he wasn't figuring to move.

A badger's a tough critter to handle,
even for a wolf.

And this one wasn't gonna budge
for anybody.

He might be small,
but he was fast on his feet,

and dead game.

Fact is, it turned out
to be quite a dance.

Heel and toe and do-si-do
all around the hall.

Finally, El Feroz decided
to call it quits.

He wasn't getting anywhere
in this game.

Besides, he had a lost pup
to worry about

and it was time
he went looking for him.

The first move was
to try to pick up his trail.

It would still be fresh enough to
follow, if the parents could find it,

but that was the big "if."

They tried calling to him,

the old pack rallying cry,

hoping he'd hear it
and know enough to answer.

There wasn't even an echo.

Nothing but silence.

One thing was certain,
they'd better catch up with him soon,

'cause Lobo was courting disaster.

A rattler has a built-in warning system,
for those who know what it means.

But being a greenhorn,
Lobo didn't get the message.

Sensing he was in danger,
he began to call for help.

Lucky for him,
his parents were within earshot.

It didn't take long
to size up the situation.

They knew exactly what to do:

draw the snake's attention
to themselves.

If they could just keep
the rattler busy,

the pup might slip
out of the danger zone.

Trouble with this plan, the way out
was squeezed a little narrow.

Besides, would the pup
know when to come?

From the sidelines,
El Feroz could see it was a standoff,

and he decided
it needed a quick ending.

Once the rattler was rooted out,
his play was over.

Now Lobo could rejoin his family.

Sore-footed and tuckered out, maybe,

but glad to be back
where he belonged.

As the weeks went by, Lobo branched out
more and more on his own,

traipsing around,
exploring the countryside.

One fine morning, he was ambling along,
not doing much of anything,

when he came upon a sight
that stopped him in his tracks.

A young antelope was feeling his oats.

He didn't seem to mind
where he was going,

just so long as he got there in a jiffy.

He was kind of a crazy little cuss,

rambunctious
and full of the old vinegar.

To watch him knock this pup around,

you'd think he'd never heard of wolves
eating antelopes.

Well, like as not,
at his age he hadn't.

These two weren't old enough to know
they were supposed to be enemies,

so an unusual friendship developed.

One of those things
that sometimes happens in nature.

In the weeks that followed,
they sort of grew up together.

And when they were three months old,
they were still going around as pals.

Often as not, their trail
led to their favorite hangout,

a little creek
running through the neighborhood.

It was a real inviting spot
for a couple of dry country young 'uns.

And they didn't need to be told
what a swimming hole was for.

Naturally, the pup favored
the dog paddle.

The other fella's style
wasn't as neat, maybe,

but, uh, it got him where he was going,
just the same.

While all this was going on

they were being spied on
by a none-too-friendly raccoon.

She kind of took the attitude that water
belonged to water critters

and not to landlubbers like these.

The raccoon had a family
to worry about, too,

and that tended to make her
leery of strangers.

Grown ups are like that, though.

The kids couldn't see
anything wrong with the visitors.

If it was to be a swimming party,
they'd join in right now.

Three of them would, anyway.

The fourth one, well, it took him
a little longer to make the plunge.

Whenever you get a passel
of small fry together,

it's about the same in nature
as with humans.

After a while, their animal energy
is apt to bust out in a squabble.

So the party ended,

and wolf and antelope moved on.

Something else had ended, too:

Their unusual friendship.

It's just not natural for enemies
to prolong an acquaintance.

And as it had to be in such things,

these two came to the fork in the trail.

By the time he was six months old,

Lobo was ready to run
with the family pack.

He was bigger now,

heavier, more like his dad
in every way.

Every way, except one.

He wasn't much help yet
with the hunting.

To El Feroz, meantime,

it seemed the hungrier his family got,

the scarcer the game got.

More and more, civilization
was pushing into these parts,

killing off his prey
or crowding it out.

♪ It seemed to old El Feroz

♪ The trail herd that he saw

♪ Was some new breed of buffalo

♪ Moving through the draw

♪ Again there would be plenty

♪ The wolves would have their fill

♪ And so he brought his family

♪ To join him in the kill ♪

Making a kill
wasn't exactly easy, though.

It was a tricky business.
Even downright dangerous.

If the timing was off, a wolf
could get himself kicked senseless.

And if the set to was a challenge
for El Feroz, the old master,

it was something more than that
for his pups.

Just when Lobo thought
he had the thing down pat,

he found himself
with a bull by the tail

and afraid to let go.

What in blazes do you do now?

About that time, the calf had sense
enough to join the rest of them.

And now it had protection
that was going to be hard to beat.

El Feroz kept dancing around,
keeping his eye on the calf.

For one thing,
it was nearer his size

and he was figuring there might be a way
to slicker the guards out of position.

'Course, he wasn't
fooling anybody, really.

The steers were wise to him
and quick to match his move.

There'd be another chance.

Put wolves and cattle together

and sooner or later
there would be a killing.

When the buffalo were wiped out

it left cattle as the wolves'
only hope for survival.

So El Feroz took
what seemed his rightful share...

but the cattlemen
weren't sharing with anybody.

And from the very beginning,
it was open warfare.

Along about that point,
the cowboys got lucky.

The mother was knocked down.

She got right up and went on,

but she wasn't in any shape
for a long, grinding chase now.

El Feroz lagged back
from time to time,

encouraging her, hoping she'd catch up.

But he had the young ones
to think of, too,

and he had to go on.

The female was getting
near the end of her rope.

A wounded animal knows
when it's reached its limit,

and, typical-like, she went off
to find a resting place.

Maybe the riders would miss
the turn off

and give her a much-needed
breathing spell.

But that's not the way it was to be.

♪ Lobo

♪ Lobo

♪ Remember this day

♪ Man's bullets

♪ Have taken

♪ Your mother

♪ Away

♪ Lobo

♪ Lobo

♪ There's no looking back

♪ Now you must

♪ Abandon her

♪ Run with the pack ♪

Never again would Lobo
forget the smell of gunpowder.

He got to know rifles by sight,
and he wouldn't let man or horse

come within 1,000 yards of him.

Yet, all the time
he and the family pack

kept taking more and more cattle.

Before long, the cattlemen's battle
seemed to be a losing one.

The enemy was almost too smart.

Maybe it was a war
calling for more than guns.

To catch a wolf in those days, the
cow man had to learn to think like one.

The trick was to make him
outsmart himself.

A wolf's an intelligent critter.

Fact is, there's not many to match him
when it comes to figuring things out.

So if a trap was gonna fool him,

it had to be rigged up
with some extra special trimmings.

A little dogie was about
the most delectable come-on.

There was something about young veal
that was well nigh irresistible.

Once the decoy was staked out,

the next thing was to plant the trap
where the wolf would have to pass.

The trap could be
most any standard make.

It had to be strong, though,
like, say a well-made number four.

Not big as a bear trap,
maybe, but big enough.

And smooth-working with a fast action.

Well, his preparations
had been pretty thorough.

You might say they had
a touch of genius about them,

'cause next morning, it looked like
nature herself was in on the deal,

playing it on the cattlemen's side.

El Feroz came on in the lead.

He was still heading up
the family pack.

And, quick as a wink,
he spotted the calf.

Naturally, he was tempted.
And why not?

A free meal like this?

But before he made any move,
hasty-like,

he sniffed around a bit,
just checking on things.

This all seemed
a little too good to be true.

Might be that was
what was wrong with it.

Maybe he'd better back off
and size things up again.

Like an unexpected gunshot,

the trap sent
the young wolves a-scattering.

They ducked out of sight quick.

All except Lobo.

He sensed something wasn't right.

There wasn't much
he could do for El Feroz,

except lend him
the comfort of his company.

Still, there's a kind of nobleness
in a wolf,

in the unexplained way of the breed,
he stayed by,

prepared to keep watch till the end.

Then the riders came back.

Lobo knew he'd have to leave.

He had no choice.

For all wild animals,

there comes the moment
when they must go their own road.

And for Lobo, that moment was now.

♪ The time had come for Lobo

♪ To make his way alone

♪ And loneliness and hunger

♪ Were things he'd never known

♪ All through the long, long winter

♪ Beneath the frozen sky

♪ Lobo learned he must be strong

♪ He must be wise

♪ Or die ♪

By the next spring, Lobo
had been a loner about long enough.

It was time to start looking for a mate.

And his wanderings took him far
from his old haunts into new territory.

One fine morning, he met up
with some wolves he'd never seen before.

He was of a mind to join 'em.

According to pack law,
he might be accepted and he might not.

It sort of depended
on whether they wanted him.

As it worked out, they were kinda
hankering for a new face, too.

Right off, Lobo was made welcome.

In the midst of all the jubilation,

he caught sight of a dark beauty
on the sidelines.

He knew his searching was over.

The black female
seemed charmed with Lobo, too.

Before long, an old-fashioned courtship
was underway.

Taking himself a mate wasn't
going to be quite this simple, though.

There was a kind of a catch to it.

The one who really had the say
was the pack leader. A surly old brute,

who, right away, took a disliking to
the young fella from out of the hills.

The pack leader could see he wasn't
winning, and when you're not winning,

you might as well do your losing
the easiest way possible.

No sense getting yourself killed
just for show.

He just tucked his tail between his legs

and gave up, simple as that.

And so, the Lobo legend
began to get a little bigger.

From that time on,
Lobo ran at the head of the pack,

with his mate at his heels

and a following of the biggest,
strongest wolves in the vicinity.

When the mating season came on,
the pack split up for a while,

each pair of wolves going off by itself.

Some of them had dens
left over from last year.

But Lobo and his mate,
being new at this,

had to set up housekeeping
somewhere brand new.

One day in their scouting, they made
a mighty interesting discovery.

Across the canyon was
an old Indian cliff dwelling.

Looked like it'd just about
fill the bill.

Only drawback was, there didn't seem
to be any way of getting over to it.

Well, where there's a will,
there's generally a way.

And it turned out,
there was a sort of a crossing.

It was one of those
"As the crow flies" things

and a wolf wanting to use it
was going to have to be mighty eager

to get on the other side.

This didn't seem to bother Lobo, though.

After looking it over good,
he undertook to give it a try.

The wolf's a sure-footed critter,

with strong nerves
and a steady eye.

Lobo had all the confidence
of the breed.

His mate, meanwhile, hung back.

She wasn't near so sure of herself.

Being the female,
maybe she wasn't so foolhardy.

Finally, after Lobo had showed
it could be done,

she got up nerve enough to follow him.

Once underway, it wasn't so bad.

Fact is, in time, these wolves
would come to use this bridge

practically every day.

It came to be a part of the Lobo legend.

The cliff dwelling, when they got to it,
looked real inviting.

The scent of man was long gone.

Besides, to these two,

it wasn't a house, but a cave,

with all the proper advantages of same:

Dry floor, sheltering walls,

and a good roof against the rain.

This was it, their new den.

The both of them were pleased
with their find,

and what's more important,
with each other.

These two had mated for life.

And right about now,
the life ahead looked good.

The next few weeks were pleasant ones,
and the days passed quickly.

Then the time came when Lobo's mate
didn't hunt with him anymore.

One morning, when he got home from
making his rounds, he found out why.

Sure was a handsome litter.

Lobo was as proud
as a new daddy could be.

♪ As leader of the wolf pack

♪ His fame began to spread

♪ For many hundred miles around

♪ A price was on his head

♪ By every law of nature

♪ The cattle were his prey

♪ But to the angry cattlemen

♪ It didn't work that way

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Since man has appeared

♪ He's put you outside the law

♪ Hunted and feared

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Since man has appeared

♪ He's put you outside the law

♪ Hunted and feared ♪

A thousand dollars.

A darn sight more than most
human outlaws were worth.

Lobo was a legend for sure.

The most notorious name
in the whole southwest.

One day, a professional hunter
from Texas rolled into the territory,

hoping to take the famous wolf
that nobody else could catch.

Bounty hunting was his full-time trade,
and he came equipped for it.

He had a killer wolfhound so mean
it had to be kept muzzled.

This was his hole card.

But first, a wolf had to be
brought to bay. And for this job,

he had a pack of the finest tracking
hounds ever gathered together.

If anybody could bring in Lobo,
looked like this was the man.

It didn't take the hunter long
to see he'd been outsmarted.

This Lobo was a lot wiser
than he'd figured.

The truth was, he had a kind of
a begrudging admiration

for a wolf that could think up
a strategy like this.

Well, if the dogs
couldn't bring this fellow in,

there were other tricks to be tried.

In looking over the situation,
he'd noticed something important:

A clue about Lobo's habits
that just might prove his downfall.

To anybody who could read the signs,

the giveaway was printed
on the ground beside the log.

The wolf tracks here
told their own story.

It was plain as anything, the wolves
always came off the log at this spot.

This was the place for a trap.

The hunter took a lot of care
in setting this one.

He picked an extra strong trap,
with a hair trigger action.

He used a special trick
to keep the dirt from clogging it.

Now, it was just a matter of time.

It so happened, Lobo didn't make
his usual rounds that day.

He'd stayed home with the family,
sort of taking things easy.

His pups were about
three months old now

and getting more active every minute.

One of them was Lobo's
particular pride and joy:

a dark little female
who was a dead ringer for her mother.

With a family to raise, Lobo was apt to
be watching his step pretty carefully.

The only thing was, this time
the man who was out to get him

was the best in the business.

When the hunter came back,
the trap was gone.

Just as he figured,
Lobo had come passing by

and had stepped down
right where he thought he would.

The fact that he wasn't in sight
was no cause for worry.

He couldn't have got far, 'cause
the trap was chained to a heavy drag.

It was leaving a well-marked trail,
it would be no trouble at all to follow.

It was a wolf, all right,
but the wrong one.

Lobo's mate,
not the old outlaw himself.

Well, since exterminating
was his business,

he might as well exterminate her
on general principles.

Then a better idea hit him.

If it was Lobo he wanted,
maybe here was a golden opportunity.

Taken alive, this female
was a sure way of gettin' at Lobo.

When his mate didn't come home,
Lobo began to get restless.

He sensed something was wrong.

It wasn't like her to stay away
from her pups like this.

He set out to find her,

just as the hunter reckoned he would.

At the other end of the bridge,
Lobo picked up the trail.

His nose told him
his mate had been in trouble.

Mixed with her scent was another one.

Hated and bitter, a taint in the air
he wouldn't ever forget.

♪ The scent of man told Lobo

♪ That he must find his mate

♪ But the bounty man
was using her

♪ To lure him to his fate

♪ The trail was plain to follow

♪ He traveled hard and fast

♪ But he would have searched forever

♪ To find his mate

♪ At last

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ There's danger

♪ Below

♪ But true

♪ To your loyal code

♪ There you must go

♪ Lobo

♪ Lobo

♪ There's danger

♪ Below

♪ But true to your

♪ Loyal code

♪ There you

♪ Must go ♪

Lobo knew the chance
he was taking, the odds against him.

He came on, stepping soft,

following the fence for protection.

His mate was somewhere near.

His keen nose said so.

Then he found her.
She was alive.

Now his problem was how to get to her.

♪ According to the legend

♪ A rally call he cried

♪ It echoed off the rimrock

♪ And carried far and wide

♪ Soon ghostly shapes and shadows

♪ Appeared out of the night

♪ In answer to their leader's call

♪ The wolves had come to fight

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ You've gathered your pack

♪ And now you must lead them all

♪ To the attack

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ You've gathered your pack

♪ And now you must lead them all

♪ To the attack ♪

♪ Lobo

♪ Lobo

♪ Your battle is won

♪ But now you must travel on

♪ Now you must run

♪ To your ancestral kingdom

♪ Man has come to stay

♪ So Lobo, you must lead your pack

♪ And family far away

♪ Beyond the distant mountains

♪ You know that there will be

♪ A place where man won't follow

♪ A land where you'll be free

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Your name will survive

♪ For no man could bring you in

♪ Dead or alive

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

- ♪ Lobo
- ♪ Lobo

♪ Although you are gone

♪ Your legend of bravery

♪ Lives

♪ On and

♪ On ♪