There was one little trick that she had developed which was purely
instinctive--that is, an inherited habit. In the back end of her kennel
she had a little _cache_ of bones, and knew exactly where one or two
lumps of unsavoury meat were buried within the radius of her chain, for
a time of famine which never came. If anyone approached these
hidden treasures she watched with anxious eyes, but made no other
demonstration. If she saw that the meddler knew the exact place, she
took an early opportunity to secrete them elsewhere.

After a year of this life Tito had grown to full size, and had learned
many things that her wild kinsmen could not have learned without losing
their lives in doing it. She knew and feared traps. She had learned to
avoid poison baits, and knew what to do at once if, by some mistake,
she should take one. She knew what guns are. She had learned to cut her
morning and evening song very short. She had some acquaintance with
Dogs, enough to make her hate and distrust them all. But, above all, she
had this idea: whenever danger is near, the very best move possible is
to lay low, be very quiet, do nothing to attract notice. Perhaps the
little brain that looked out of those changing yellow eyes was the
storehouse of much other knowledge about men, but what it was did not
appear.

[Illustration]

The Coyote was fully grown when the boss of the outfit bought a couple
of thoroughbred Greyhounds, wonderful runners, to see whether he could
not entirely extirpate the remnant of the Coyotes that still destroyed
occasional Sheep and Calves on the range, and at the same time find
amusement in the sport. He was tired of seeing that Coyote in the yard;
so, deciding to use her for training the Dogs, he had her roughly thrown
into a bag, then carried a quarter of a mile away and dumped out. At the
same time the Greyhounds were slipped and chivvied on. Away they went
bounding at their matchless pace, that nothing else on four legs could
equal, and away went the Coyote, frightened by the noise of the men,
frightened even to find herself free. Her quarter-mile start quickly
shrank to one hundred yards, the one hundred to fifty, and on sped the
flying Dogs. Clearly there was no chance for her. On and nearer they
came. In another minute she would have been stretched out--not a doubt
of it. But on a sudden she stopped, turned, and walked toward the Dogs
with her tail serenely waving in the air and a friendly cock to her
ears. Greyhounds are peculiar Dogs. Anything that runs away, they are
going to catch and kill if they can. Anything that is calmly facing them
becomes at once a non-combatant. They bounded over and past the Coyote
before they could curb their own impetuosity, and returned completely
nonplussed. Possibly they recognized the Coyote of the house-yard as
she stood there wagging her tail. The ranchmen were nonplussed too.
Every one was utterly taken aback, had a sense of failure, and the real
victor in the situation was felt to be the audacious little Coyote.

The Greyhounds refused to attack an animal that wagged its tail and
would not run; and the men, on seeing that the Coyote could _walk_ far
enough away to avoid being caught by hand, took their ropes (lassoes),
and soon made her a prisoner once more. The next day they decided to try
again, but this time they added the white Bull-terrier to the chasers.
The Coyote did as before. The Greyhounds declined to be party to any
attack on such a mild and friendly acquaintance. But the Bull-terrier,
who came puffing and panting on the scene three minutes later, had no
such scruples. He was not so tall, but he was heavier than the Coyote,
and, seizing her by her wool-protected neck, he shook her till, in a
surprisingly short time, she lay limp and lifeless, at which all the
men seemed pleased, and congratulated the Terrier, while the Greyhounds
pottered around in restless perplexity.

[Illustration]

A stranger in the party, a newly arrived Englishman, asked if he might
have the brush--the tail, he explained--and on being told to help
himself, he picked up the victim by the tail, and with one awkward chop
of his knife he cut it off at the middle, and the Coyote dropped, but
gave a shrill yelp of pain. She was not dead, only playing possum, and
now she leaped up and vanished into a near-by thicket of cactus and
sage.

With Greyhounds a running animal is the signal for a run, so the two
long-legged Dogs and the white broad-chested Dog dashed after the
Coyote. But right across their path, by happy chance, there flashed a
brown streak ridden by a snowy powder-puff, the visible but evanescent
sign for Cottontail Rabbit. The Coyote was not in sight now. The Rabbit
was, so the Greyhounds dashed after the Cottontail, who took advantage
of a Prairie-dog's hole to seek safety in the bosom of Mother Earth, and
the Coyote made good her escape.

[Illustration]

She had been a good deal jarred by the rude treatment of the Terrier,
and her mutilated tail gave her some pain. But otherwise she was all
right, and she loped lightly away, keeping out of sight in the hollows,
and so escaped among the fantastic buttes of the Badlands, to be
eventually the founder of a new life among the Coyotes of the Little
Missouri.

Moses was preserved by the Egyptians till he had outlived the dangerous
period, and learned from them wisdom enough to be the saviour of his
people against those same Egyptians. So the bobtailed Coyote was not
only saved by man and carried over the dangerous period of puppyhood:
she was also unwittingly taught by him how to baffle the traps, poisons,
lassoes, guns, and Dogs that had so long waged a war of extermination
against her race.




III


Thus Tito escaped from man, and for the first time found herself face to
face with the whole problem of life; for now she had her own living to
get.

A wild animal has three sources of wisdom:

First, _the experience of its ancestors_, in the form of instinct, which
is inborn learning, hammered into the race by ages of selection and
tribulation. This is the most important to begin with, because it guards
him from the moment he is born.

Second, _the experience of his parents and comrades_, learned chiefly by
example. This becomes most important as soon as the young can run.

Third, _the personal experience_ of the animal itself. This grows in
importance as the animal ages.

The weakness of the first is its fixity; it cannot change to meet
quickly changing conditions. The weakness of the second is the animal's
inability freely to exchange ideas by language. The weakness of the
third is the danger in acquiring it. But the three together are a strong
arch.

Now, Tito was in a new case. Perhaps never before had a Coyote faced
life with unusual advantages in the third kind of knowledge, none
at all in the second, and with the first dormant. She travelled rapidly
away from the ranchmen, keeping out of sight, and sitting down once in a
while to lick her wounded tail-stump. She came at last to a Prairie-dog
town. Many of the inhabitants were out, and they barked at the intruder,
but all dodged down as soon as she came near. Her instinct taught her
to try and catch one, but she ran about in vain for some time, and then
gave it up. She would have gone hungry that night but that she found a
couple of Mice in the long grass by the river. Her mother had not taught
her to hunt, but her instinct did, and the accident that she had an
unusual brain made her profit very quickly by her experience.

In the days that followed she quickly learned how to make a living;
for Mice, Ground Squirrels, Prairie-dogs, Rabbits, and Lizards were
abundant, and many of these could be captured in open chase. But open
chase, and sneaking as near as possible before beginning the open chase,
lead naturally to stalking for a final spring. And before the moon had
changed the Coyote had learned how to make a comfortable living.

Once or twice she saw the men with the Greyhounds coming her way. Most
Coyotes would, perhaps, have barked in bravado, or would have gone up to
some high place whence they could watch the enemy; but Tito did no such
foolish thing. Had she run, her moving form would have caught the eyes
of the Dogs, and then nothing could have saved her. She dropped where
she was, and lay flat until the danger had passed. Thus her ranch
training to lay low began to stand her in good stead, and so it came
about that her weakness was her strength. The Coyote kind had so long
been famous for their speed, had so long learned to trust in their legs,
that they never dreamed of a creature that could run them down. They
were accustomed to play with their pursuers, and so rarely bestirred
themselves to run from Greyhounds, till it was too late. But Tito,
brought up at the end of a chain, was a poor runner. She had no reason
to trust her legs. She rather trusted her wits, and so lived.

During that summer she stayed about the Little Missouri, learning the
tricks of small-game hunting that she should have learned before she
shed her milk-teeth, and gaining in strength and speed. She kept far
away from all the ranches, and always hid on seeing a man or a strange
beast, and so passed the summer alone. During the daytime she was not
lonely, but when the sun went down she would feel the impulse to sing
that wild song of the West which means so much to the Coyotes. It is not
the invention of an individual nor of the present, but was slowly built
out of the feelings of all Coyotes in all ages. It expresses their
nature and the Plains that made their nature. When one begins it, it
takes hold of the rest, as the fife and drum do with soldiers, or the
ki-yi war-song with Indian braves. They respond to it as a bell-glass
does to a certain note the moment that note is struck, ignoring other
sounds. So the Coyote, no matter how brought up, must vibrate at the
night song of the Plains, for it touches something in himself.

[Illustration]

They sing it after sundown, when it becomes the rallying cry of their
race and the friendly call to a neighbour; and, they sing it as one boy
in the woods holloas to another to say, "All's well! Here am I. Where
are you?" A form of it they sing to the rising moon, for this is the
time for good hunting to begin. They sing when they see the new camp-
fire, for the same reason that a Dog barks at a stranger. Yet another
weird chant they have for the dawning before they steal quietly away
from the offing of the camp--a wild, weird, squalling refrain: Wow-wow-
wow-wow-wow-w-o-o-o-o-o-o-w. again and again; and doubtless with many
another change that man cannot distinguish any more than the Coyote can
distinguish the words in the cowboy's anathemas.

Tito instinctively uttered her music at the proper times. But sad
experiences had taught her to cut it short and keep it low. Once or
twice she had got a far-away reply from one of her own race, whereupon
she had quickly ceased and timidly quit the neighbourhood.

One day, when on the Upper Garner's Creek, she found the trail where
a piece of meat had been dragged along. It was a singularly inviting
odour, and she followed it, partly out of curiosity. Presently she came
on a piece of the meat itself. She was hungry; she was always hungry
now. It was tempting, and although it had a peculiar odour, she
swallowed it. Within a few minutes she felt a terrific pain. The memory
of the poisoned meat the boy had given her, was fresh. With trembling,
foaming jaws she seized some blades of grass, and her stomach threw off
the meat; but she fell in convulsions on the ground.

The trail of meat dragged along and the poison baits had been laid the
day before by Wolfer Jake. This morning he was riding the drag, and on
coming up from the draw he saw, far ahead, the Coyote struggling. He
knew, of course, that it was poisoned, and rode quickly up; but the
convulsions passed as he neared. By a mighty effort, at the sound of the
Horse's hoofs the Coyote arose to her front feet. Jake drew his revolver
and fired, but the only effect was fully to alarm her. She tried to run,
but her hind legs were paralysed. She put forth all her strength,
dragging her hind legs. Now, when the poison was no longer in the
stomach, will-power could do a great deal. Had she been allowed to lie
down then she would have been dead in five minutes; but the revolver
shots and the man coming stirred her to strenuous action. Madly she
struggled again and again to get her hind legs to work. All the force of
desperate intent she brought to bear. It was like putting forth tenfold
power to force the nervous fluids through their blocked-up channels as
she dragged herself with marvellous speed downhill. What is nerve but
will? The dead wires of her legs were hot with this fresh power,
multiplied, injected, blasted into them. They had to give in. She felt
them thrill with life again. Each wild shot from the gun lent vital
help. Another fierce attempt, and one hind leg obeyed the call to duty.
A few more bounds, and the other, too, fell in. Then lightly she loped
away among the broken buttes, defying the agonizing gripe that still
kept on inside.

[Illustration]

Had Jake held off then she would yet have laid down and died; but he
followed and fired and fired, till in another mile she bounded free from
pain, saved from her enemy by himself. He had compelled her to take the
only cure, so she escaped.

And these were the ideas that she harvested that day: That curious smell
on the meat stands for mortal agony. Let it alone! And she never forgot
it; thenceforth she knew strychnine.

Fortunately, Dogs, traps, and strychnine do not wage war at once, for
the Dogs are as apt to be caught or poisoned as the Coyotes. Had there
been a single Dog in the hunt that day Tito's history would have ended.




IV.


When the weather grew cooler toward the end of Autumn Tito had gone far
toward repairing the defects in her early training. She was more like an
ordinary Coyote in her habits now, and she was more disposed to sing the
sundown song. One night, when she got a response, she yielded to the
impulse again to call, and soon afterward a large, dark Coyote appeared.
The fact that he was there at all was a guarantee of unusual gifts, for
the war against his race was waged relentlessly by the cattlemen. He
approached with caution. Tito's mane bristled with mixed feelings at
the sight of one of her own kind. She crouched flat on the; ground and
waited. The newcomer came stiffly forward, nosing the wind; then up the
wind nearly to her. Then he walked around so that she should wind him,
and raising his tail, gently waved it. The first acts meant armed
neutrality, but the last was a distinctly friendly signal. Then he
approached and she rose up suddenly and stood as high as she could to
be smelled. Then she wagged the stump of her tail, and they considered
themselves acquainted.

[Illustration]

The newcomer was a very large Coyote, half as tall again as Tito, and
the dark patch on his shoulders was so large and black that the cow-boys
when they came to know him, called him Saddleback. From that time
these two continued more or less together. They were not always
close together, often were miles apart during the day, but toward
[Illustration: They Considered Themselves Acquainted] night one or the
other would get on some high open place and sing the loud

  Yap-yap-yap-yow-wow-wow-wow-wow,

and they would forgather for some foray on hand.

The physical advantages were with Saddleback, but the greater cunning
was Tito's, so that she in time became the leader. Before a month a
third Coyote had appeared on the scene and become also a member of this
loose-bound fraternity, and later two more appeared. Nothing succeeds
like success. The little bobtailed Coyote had had rare advantages of
training just where the others were lacking: she knew the devices of
man. She could not tell about these in words, but she could by the aid
of a few signs and a great deal of example. It soon became evident that
her methods of hunting were successful, whereas, when they went without
her, they often had hard luck. A man at Boxelder Ranch had twenty Sheep.
The rules of the county did not allow anyone to own more, as this was a
Cattle-range. The Sheep were guarded by a large and fierce Collie. One
day in winter two of the Coyotes tried to raid this flock by a bold
dash, and all they got was a mauling from the Collie. A few days later
the band returned at dusk. Just how Tito arranged it, man cannot tell.
We can only guess how she taught them their parts, but we know that she
surely did. The Coyotes hid in the willows. Then Saddleback, the bold
and swift, walked openly toward the Sheep and barked a loud defiance.
The Collie jumped up with bristling mane and furious growl, then, seeing
the foe, dashed straight at him. Now was the time for the steady nerve
and the unfailing limbs. Saddleback let the Dog come near enough
_almost_ to catch him, and so beguiled him far and away into the woods,
while the other Coyotes, led by Tito, stampeded the Sheep in twenty
directions; then following the farthest, they killed several and left
them in the snow. In the gloom of descending night the Dog and his
master laboured till they had gathered the bleating survivors; but next
morning they found that four had been driven far away and killed, and
the Coyotes had had a banquet royal.

[Illustration] The shepherd poisoned the carcasses and left them. Next
night the Coyotes returned. Tito sniffed the now frozen meat, detected
the poison, gave a warning growl, and scattered filth over the meat, so
that none of the band should touch it. One, however, who was fast and
foolish, persisted in feeding in spite of Tito's warning, and when they
came away he was lying poisoned and dead in the snow.

[Illustration]




V.


Jake now heard on all sides that the Coyotes were getting worse. So he
set to work with many traps and much poison to destroy those on the
Garner's Creek, and every little while he would go with the Hounds and
scour the Little Missouri south and east of the Chimney-pot Ranch; for
it was understood that he must never run the Dogs in country where traps
and poison were laid. He worked in his erratic way all winter, and
certainly did have some success. He killed a couple of Grey Wolves, said
to be the last of their race, and several Coyotes, some of which, no
doubt, were of the Bobtailed pack, which thereby lost those members
which were lacking in wisdom.

Yet that winter was marked by a series of Coyote raids and exploits; and
usually the track in the snow or the testimony of eye-witnesses told
that the master spirit of it all was a little Bobtailed Coyote.

One of these adventures was the cause of much talk. The Coyote challenge
sounded close to the Chimney-pot Ranch after sundown. A dozen Dogs
responded with the usual clamour. But only the Bull-terrier dashed away
toward the place whence the Coyotes had called, for the reason that he
only was loose. His chase was fruitless, and he came back growling.
Twenty minutes later there was another Coyote yell close at hand. Off
dashed the Terrier as before. In a minute his excited yapping; told that
he had sighted his game and was in full chase. Away he went, furiously
barking, until his voice was lost afar, and nevermore was heard. In the
morning the men read in the snow the tale of the night. The first cry
of the Coyotes was to find out if all the Dogs were loose; then, having
found that only one was free, they laid a plan. Five Coyotes hid along
the side of the trail; one went forward and called till it had decoyed
the rash Terrier, and then led him right into the ambush. What chance
had he with six? They tore him limb from limb, and devoured him, too, at
the very spot where once he had worried Coyotito. And next morning,
when the men came, they saw by the signs that the whole thing had been
planned, and that the leader whose cunning had made it a success was a
little Bob-tailed Coyote.

The men were angry, and Lincoln was furious; but Jake remarked: "Well, I
guess that Bobtail came back and got even with that Terrier."

[Illustration]




VI.


When spring was near, the annual love-season of the Coyotes came on.
Saddleback and Tito bad been together merely as companions all winter,
but now a new feeling was born. There was not much courting. Saddleback
simply showed his teeth to possible rivals. There was no ceremony. They
had been friends for months, and now, in the light of the new feeling,
they naturally took to each other and were mated. Coyotes do not give
each other names as do mankind, but have one sound like a growl and
short howl, which stands for "mate" or "husband" or "wife." This they
use in calling to each other, and it is by recognizing the tone of the
voice that they know who is calling.

The loose rambling brotherhood of the Coyotes was broken up now, for
the others also paired off, and since the returning warm weather was
bringing out the Prairie-dogs and small game, there was less need to
combine for hunting. Ordinarily Coyotes do not sleep in dens or in any
fixed place. They move about all night while it is cool, then during the
daytime they get a few hours' sleep in the sun, on some quiet hillside
that also gives a chance to watch out. But the mating season changes
this habit somewhat.

As the weather grew warm Tito and Saddleback set about preparing a den
for the expected family. In a warm little hollow, an old Badger abode
was cleaned out, enlarged, and deepened. A quantity of leaves and grass
was carried into it and arranged in a comfortable nest. The place
selected for it was a dry sunny nook among the hills, half a mile west
of the Little Missouri. Thirty yards from it was a ridge which commanded
a wide view of the grassy slopes and cottonwood groves by the river. Men
would have called the spot very beautiful, but it is tolerably certain
that that side of it never touched the Coyotes at all.

Tito began to be much preoccupied with her impending duties. She stayed
quietly in the neighbourhood of the den, and lived on such food as
Saddleback brought her, or she herself could easily catch, and also on
the little stores that she had buried at other times. She knew every
Prairie-dog town in the region, as well as all the best places for Mice
and Rabbits.

[Illustration]

Not far from the den was the very Dog-town that first she had
crossed, the day she had gained her liberty and lost her tail. If she
were capable of such retrospect, she must have laughed to herself to
think what a fool she was then. The change in her methods was now shown.
Somewhat removed from the others, a Prairie-dog had made his den in the
most approved style, and now when Tito peered over he was feeding on the
grass ten yards from his own door. A Prairie-dog away from the others
is, of course, easier to catch than one in the middle of the town, for
he has but one pair of eyes to guard him; so Tito set about stalking
this one. How was she to do it when there was no cover, nothing but
short grass and a few low weeds? The White-bear knows how to approach
the Seal on the flat ice, and the Indian how to get within striking
distance of the grazing Deer. Tito knew how to do the same trick, and
although one of the town Owls flew over with a warning chuckle, Tito set
about her plan. A Prairie-dog cannot see well unless he is sitting up
on his hind legs; his eyes are of little use when he is nosing in
the grass; and Tito knew this. Further, a yellowish-grey animal on a
yellowish-grey landscape is invisible till it moves. Tito seemed to
know that. So, without any attempt to crawl or hide, she walked gently
up-wind toward the Prarie-dog. Upwind, not in order to prevent the
Prairie-dog smelling her, but so that she could smell him, which came to
the same thing. As soon as the Prairie-dog sat up with some food in his
hand she froze into a statue. As soon, as he dropped again to nose in
the grass, she walked steadily nearer, watching his every move so that
she might be motionless each time he sat up to see what his distant
brothers were barking at. Once or twice he seemed alarmed by the calls
of his friends, but he saw nothing and resumed his feeding. She soon
cut the fifty yards down to ten, and the ten to five, and still was
undiscovered. Then, when again the Prairie-dog dropped down to seek more
fodder, she made a quick dash, and bore him off kicking and squealing.
Thus does the angel of the pruning-knife lop off those that are heedless
and foolishly indifferent to the advantages of society.

[Illustration: Their Evening Song.]




VII.


Tito had many adventures in which she did not come out so well. Once she
nearly caught an Antelope fawn, but the hunt was spoiled by the sudden
appearance of the mother, who gave Tito a stinging blow on the side of
the head and ended her hunt for that day. She never again made that
mistake--she had sense. Once or twice she had to jump to escape the
strike of a Rattlesnake. Several times she had been fired at by hunters
with long-range rifles. And more and more she had to look out for the
terrible Grey Wolves. The Grey Wolf, of course, is much larger and
stronger than the Coyote, but the Coyote has the advantage of speed, and
can always escape in the open. All it must beware of is being caught in
a corner. Usually when a Grey Wolf howls the Coyotes go quietly about
their business elsewhere.

Tito had a curious fad, occasionally seen among the Wolves and Coyotes,
of carrying in her mouth, for miles, such things as seemed to be
interesting and yet were not tempting as eatables. Many a time had she
trotted a mile or two with an old Buffalo-horn or a cast-off shoe, only
to drop it when something else attracted her attention. The cow-boys who
remark these things have various odd explanations to offer: one,
that it is done to stretch the jaws, or keep them in practice, just as a
man in training carries weights. Coyotes have, in common with Dogs and
Wolves, the habit of calling at certain stations along their line of
travel, to leave a record of their visit. These stations may be a stone,
a tree, a post, or an old Buffalo-skull, and the Coyote calling there
can learn, by the odour and track of the last comer, just who the caller
was, whence he came, and whither he went. The whole country is marked
out by these intelligence depots. Now it often happens that a Coyote,
that has not much else to do will carry a dry bone or some other useless
object in its mouth, but sighting the signal-post, will go toward it to
get the news, lay down the bone, and afterwards forget to take it along,
so that the signal-posts in time become further marked with a curious
collection of odds and ends.

[Illustration]

This singular habit was the cause of a disaster to the Chimney-pot
Wolf-hounds, and a corresponding advantage to the Coyotes in the war.
Jake had laid a line of poison baits on the western bluffs. Tito knew
what they were, and spurned them as usual; but finding more later, she
gathered up three or four and crossed the Little Missouri toward the
ranch-house. This she circled at a safe distance; but when something
made the pack of Dogs break out into clamour, Tito dropped the baits,
and next day, when the Dogs were taken out for exercise they found and
devoured these scraps of meat, so that in ten minutes, there were four
hundred dollars' worth of Greyhounds lying dead. This led to an edict
against poisoning in that district, and thus was a great boon to the
Coyotes.

[Illustration]

Tito quickly learned that not only each kind of game must be hunted in a
special way, but different ones of each kind may require quite different
treatment. The Prairie-dog with the outlying den was really an easy
prey, but the town was quite compact now that he was gone. Near the
centre of it was a fine, big, fat Prairie-dog, a perfect alderman, that
she had made several vain attempts to capture. On one occasion she had
crawled almost within leaping distance, when the angry _bizz_ of a
Rattlesnake just ahead warned her that she was in danger. Not that the
Ratler cared anything about the Prairie-dog, but he did not wish to
be disturbed; and Tito, who had an instinctive fear of the Snake, was
forced to abandon the hunt. The open stalk proved an utter, failure with
the Alderman, for the situation of his den made every Dog in the town
his sentinel; but he was too good to lose, and Tito waited until
circumstances made a new plan.

All Coyotes have a trick of watching from a high look-out whatever
passes along the roads. After it has passed they go down and examine its
track. Tito had this habit, except that she was always careful to keep
out of sight herself.

One day a wagon passed from the town to the southward. Tito lay low and
watched it. Something dropped on the road. When the wagon was out of
sight Tito sneaked down, first to smell the trail as a matter of habit,
second to see what it was that had dropped. The object was really an
apple, but Tito saw only an unattractive round green thing like a
cactus-leaf without spines, and of a peculiar smell. She snuffed it,
spurned it, and was about to pass on; but the sun shone on it so
brightly, and it rolled so curiously when she pawed, that she picked it
up in a mechanical way and trotted back over the rise, where are found
herself at the Dog-town. Just then two great Prairie-hawks came skimming
like pirates over the plain. As soon as they were in sight the Prairie-
dogs all barked, jerking their tails at each bark, and hid below. When
all were gone Tito walked on toward the hole of the big fat fellow whose
body she coveted, and dropping the apple on the ground a couple of feet
from the rim of the crater that formed his home, she put her nose down
to enjoy the delicious smell of Dog-fat. Even his den smelled more
fragrant than those of the rest. Then she went quietly behind a
greasewood bush, in a lower place some twenty yards away, and lay flat.
After a few seconds some venturesome Prairie-dog looked out, and seeing
nothing, gave the "all's well" bark. One by one they came out, and in
twenty minutes the town was alive as before. One of the last to come out
was the fat old Alderman. He always took good care of his own precious
self. He peered out cautiously a few times, then climbed to the top of
his look-out. A Prairie-dog hole is shaped like a funnel, going straight
down. Around the top of this is built a high ridge which serves as a
look-out, and also makes sure that, no matter how they may slip in their
hurry, they are certain to drop into the funnel and be swallowed up by
the all-protecting earth. On the outside the ground slopes away gently
from the funnel. Now, when the Alderman saw that strange round thing at
his threshold he was afraid. Second inspection led him to believe that
it was not dangerous, but was probably interesting. He went cautiously
toward it, smelled it, and tried to nibble it; but the apple rolled
away, for it was round, and the ground was smooth as well as sloping.
The Prairie-dog followed and gave it a nip which satisfied him that the
strange object would make good eating. But each time he nibbled, it
rolled farther away. The coast seemed clear, all the other Prairie-dogs
were out, so the fat Alderman did not hesitate to follow up the dodging,
shifting apple.

This way and that it wriggled, and he followed. Of course it worked
toward the low place where grew the greasewood bush. The little tastes
of apple that he got only whetted his appetite. The Alderman was more
and more interested. Foot by foot he was led from his hole toward that
old, familiar bush and had no thought of anything but the joy of eating.
And Tito curled herself and braced her sinewy legs, and measured the
distance between, until it dwindled to not more than three good jumps;
then up and like an arrow she went, and grabbed and bore him off at
last.

It will never be known whether it was accident or design that led to the
placing of that apple, but it proved important, and if such a thing were
to happen once or twice to a smart Coyote,--and it is usually clever
ones that get such chances,--it might easily grow into a new trick of
hunting.

[Illustration]

After a hearty meal Tito buried the rest in a cold place, not to get rid
of it, but to hide it for future use; and a little later, when she was
too weak to hunt much, her various hoards of this sort came in very
useful. True, the meat had turned very strong; but Tito was not
critical, and she had no fears or theories of microbes, so suffered no
ill effects.




VIII.


The lovely Hiawathan spring was touching all things in the fairy
Badlands. Oh, why are they called Badlands? If Nature sat down
deliberately on the eighth day of creation and said, "Now work is done,
let's play; let's make a place that shall combine everything that is
finished and wonderful and beautiful--a paradise for man and bird and
beast," it was surely then that she made these wild, fantastic hills,
teeming with life, radiant with gayest flowers, varied with sylvan
groves, bright with prairie sweeps and brimming lakes and streams. In
foreground, offing, and distant hills that change at every step, we find
some proof that Nature squandered here the riches that in other lands
she used as sparingly as gold, with colourful sky above and colourful
land below, and the distance blocked by sculptured buttes that are built
of precious stones and ores, and tinged as by a lasting and unspeakable
sunset. And yet, for all this ten tunes gorgeous wonderland enchanted,
blind man has found no better name than one which says, _the road to it
is hard_.

[Illustration]

The little hollow west of Chimney Butte was freshly grassed. The
dangerous-looking Spanish bayonets, that through the bygone winter
had waged war with all things, now sent out their contribution to the
peaceful triumph of the spring, in flowers that have stirred even the
chilly scientists to name them _Gloriosa_; and the cactus, poisonous,
most reptilian of herbs, surprised the world with a splendid bloom as
little like itself as the pearl is like its mother shell-fish. The sage
and the greasewood lent their gold, and the sand-anemone tinged the
Badland hills like bluish snow; and in the air and earth and hills on
every hand was felt the fecund promise of the spring. This was the end
of the winter famine, the beginning of the summer feast, and this I
was the time by the All-mother, ordained when first the little Coyotes
should see the light of day.

A mother does not have to learn to love her helpless, squirming brood.
They bring the love with them--not much or little, not measurable, but
perfect love. And in that dimly lighted warm abode she fondled them and
licked them and cuddled them with heartful warmth of tenderness, that
was as much a new epoch in her life as in theirs.

[Illustration]

But the pleasure of loving them was measured in the same measure as
anxiety for their safety. In bygone days her care had been mainly for
herself. All she had learned in her strange puppyhood, all she had
picked up since, was bent to the main idea of self-preservation. Now she
was ousted from her own affections by her brood. Her chief care was to
keep their home concealed, and this was not very hard at first, for she
left them only when she must, to supply her own wants.

She came and went with great care, and only after spying well the land
so that none should see and find the place of her treasure. If it were
possible for the little ones' idea of their mother and the cow-boys'
idea to be set side by side they would be found to have nothing in
common, though both were right in their point of view. The ranchmen
[Illustration: Tito and her Brood.] knew the Coyote only as a pair
of despicable, cruel jaws, borne around on tireless legs, steered by
incredible cunning, and leaving behind a track of destruction. The
little ones knew her as a loving, gentle, all-powerful guardian. For
them her breast was soft and warm and infinitely tender. She fed and
warmed them, she was their wise and watchful keeper. She was always at
hand with food when they hungered, with wisdom to foil the cunning of
their foes, and with a heart of courage tried to crown her well-laid
plans for them with uniform success.

[Illustration]

A baby Coyote is a shapeless, senseless, wriggling, and--to every one
but its mother--a most uninteresting little lump. But after its eyes are
open, after it has developed its legs, after it has learned to play in
the sun with its brothers, or run at the gentle call of its mother when
she brings home game for it to feed on, the baby Coyote becomes one of
the cutest, dearest little rascals on earth. And when the nine that
made up Coyotito's brood had reached this stage, it did not require the
glamour of motherhood to make them objects of the greatest interest.

The summer was now on. The little ones were beginning to eat flesh-meat,
and Tito, with some assistance from Saddleback, was kept busy to supply
both themselves and the brood. Sometimes she brought them a Prairie-dog,
at other times she would come home with a whole bunch of Gophers
and Mice in her jaws; and once or twice, by the clever trick of
relay-chasing, she succeeded in getting one of the big Northern
Jack-rabbits for the little folks at home.

[Illustration]

After they had feasted they would lie around in the sun for a time. Tito
would mount guard on a bank and scan the earth and air with her keen,
brassy eye, lest any dangerous foe should find their happy valley; and
the merry pups played little games of tag, or chased the Butterflies, or
had apparently desperate encounters with each other, or tore and worried
the bones and feathers that now lay about the threshold of the home.
One, the least, for there is usually a runt, stayed near the mother and
climbed on her back or pulled at her tail. They made a lovely picture as
they played, and the wrestling group in the middle seemed the focus
of it all at first; but a keener, later look would have rested on the
mother, quiet, watchful, not without anxiety, but, above all, with a
face full of motherly tenderness. Oh, she was so proud and happy, and
she would sit there and watch them and silently love them till it was
time to go home, or until some sign of distant danger showed. Then, with
a low growl, she gave the signal, and all disappeared from sight in a
twinkling, after which she would set off to meet and turn the danger, or
go on a fresh hunt for food.




IX.


Oliver Jake had several plans for making a fortune, but each in turn was
abandoned as soon as he found that it meant work. At one time or other
most men of this kind see the chance of their lives in a poultry-farm.
They cherish the idea that somehow the poultry do all the work. And
without troubling himself about the details, Jake devoted an unexpected
windfall to the purchase of a dozen Turkeys for his latest scheme. The
Turkeys were duly housed in one end of Jake's shanty, so as to be well
guarded, and for a couple of days were the object of absorbing interest,
and had the best of care--too much, really. But Jake's ardour waned
about the third day; then the recurrent necessity for long celebrations
at Medora, and the ancient allurements of idle hours spent lying on the
tops of sunny buttes and of days spent sponging on the hospitality
of distant ranches, swept away the last pretence of attention to his
poultry-farm. The Turkeys were utterly neglected--left to forage for
themselves; and each time that Jake returned to his uninviting shanty,
after a few days' absence, he found fewer birds, till at last none but
the old Gobbler was left.

Jake cared little about the loss, but was filled with indignation
against the thief.

He was now installed as wolver to the Broadarrow outfit. That is, he was
supplied with poison, traps, and Horses, and was also entitled to all he
could make out of Wolf bounties. A reliable man would have gotten pay in
addition, for the ranchmen are generous, but Jake was not reliable.

Every wolver knows, of course, that his business naturally drops into
several well-marked periods.

In the late whiter and early spring--the love-season--the Hounds will
not hunt a She-wolf. They will quit the trail of a He-wolf at this time
--to take up that of a She-wolf, but when they do overtake her, they,
for some sentimental reason, invariably let her go in peace. In August
and September the young Coyotes and Wolves are just beginning to run
alone, and they are then easily trapped and poisoned. A month or so
later the survivors have learned how to take care of themselves, but in
the early summer the wolver knows that there are dens full of little
ones all through the hills. Each den has from five to fifteen pups, and
the only difficulty is to know the whereabouts of these family homes.

One way of finding the dens is to watch from some tall butte for a
Coyote carrying food to its brood. As this kind of wolving involved much
lying still, it suited Jake very well. So, equipped with a Broadarrow
arrow Horse and the boss's field-glasses, he put in week after week at
den-hunting--that is, lying asleep in some possible look-out, with an
occasional glance over the country when it seemed easier to do that than
to lie still.

The Coyotes had learned to avoid the open. They generally went homeward
along the sheltered hollows; but this was not always possible, and one
day, while exercising his arduous profession in the country west of
Chimney Butte, Jake's glasses and glance fell by chance on a dark spot
which moved along an open hillside. It was grey, and it looked like
this: and even Jake knew that that meant Coyote. If it had been a grey
Wolf it would have been so: with tail up. A Fox would have looked so:
the large ears and tail and the yellow colour would have marked it. And
a Deer would have looked so: That dark shade from the front end meant
something in his mouth--probably something being carried home--and that
would mean a den of little ones.

[Illustration]

He made careful note of the place, and returned there next day to watch,
selecting a high butte near where he had seen the Coyote carrying the
food. But all day passed, and he saw nothing. Next day, however, he
descried a dark Coyote, old Saddleback, carrying a large Bird, and by
the help of the glasses he made out that it was a Turkey, and then he
knew that the yard at home was quite empty, and he also knew where the
rest of them had gone, and vowed terrible vengeance when he should find
the den. He followed Saddleback with his eyes as far as possible, and
that was no great way, then went to the place to see if he could track
him any farther; but he found no guiding signs, and he did not chance on
the little hollow the was the playground of Tito's brood.

Meanwhile Saddleback came to the little hollow and gave the low call
that always conjured from the earth the unruly procession of the nine
riotous little pups, and they dashed at the Turkey and pulled and
worried till it was torn up, and each that got a piece ran to one side
alone and silently proceeded to eat, seizing his portion in his jaws
when another came near, and growling his tiny growl as he showed the
brownish whites of his eyes in his effort to watch the intruder. Those
that got the softer parts to feed on were well fed. But the three that
did not turned all then energies on the frame of the Gobbler, and over
that there waged a battle royal. This way and that they tugged and
tussled, getting off occasional scraps, but really hindering each other
feeding, till Tito glided in and deftly cut the Turkey into three or
four, when each dashed off with a prize, over which he sat and chewed
and smacked his lips and jammed his head down sideways to bring the
backmost teeth to bear, while the baby runt scrambled into the home den,
carrying in triumph his share--the Gobbler's grotesque head and neck.




X.


Jake felt that he had been grievously wronged, indeed ruined, by that
Coyote that stole his Turkeys. He vowed he would skin them alive when he
found the pups, and took pleasure in thinking about how he would do it.
His attempt to follow Saddleback by trailing was a failure, and all his
searching for the den was useless, but he had come prepared for any
emergency. In case he found the den he had brought a pick and shovel; in
case he did not he had brought a living white Hen.

The Hen he now took to a broad open place near where he had seen
Saddle-back, and there he tethered her to a stick of wood that she could
barely drag. Then he made himself comfortable on a look-out that was
near, and lay still to watch. The Hen, of course, ran to the end of the
string, and then lay on the ground flopping stupidly. Presently the log
gave enough to ease the strain, she turned by mere chance in another
direction, and so, for a time, stood up to look around.

The day went slowly by, and Jake lazily stretched himself on the blanket
in his spying-place. Toward evening Tito came by on a hunt. This was not
surprising, for the den was only half a mile away. Tito had learned,
among other rules, this, "Never show yourself on the sky-line." In
former days the Coyotes used to trot along the tops of the ridges for
the sake of the chance to watch both sides. But men and guns had taught
Tito that in this way you are sure to be seen. She therefore made a
practice of running along near the top, and once in a while peeping
over.

This was what she did that evening as she went out to hunt for the
children's supper, and her keen eyes fell on the white Hen, stupidly
stalking about and turning up its eyes in a wise way each time a
harmless Turkey-buzzard came in sight against a huge white cloud.

Tito was puzzled. This was something new. It _looked_ like game, but
she feared to take any chances. She circled all around without showing
herself, then decided that, whatever it might be, it was better let
alone. As she passed on, a fault whiff of smoke caught her attention.
She followed cautiously, and under a butte far from the Hen she found
Jake's camp. His bed was there, his Horse was picketed, and on the
remains of the fire was a pot which gave out a smell which she well knew
about men's camps--the smell of coffee. Tito felt uneasy at this proof
that a man was staying so near her home, but she went off quietly on her
hunt, keeping out of sight, and Jake knew nothing of her visit.

About sundown he took in his decoy Hen, as Owls were abundant, and went
back to his camp.




XI.


Next day the Hen was again put out, and late that afternoon Saddleback
came trotting by. As soon as his eye fell on the white Hen he stopped
short, his head on one side, and gazed. Then he circled to get the wind,
and went cautiously sneaking nearer, very cautiously, somewhat puzzled,
till he got a whiff that reminded him of the place where he had found
those Turkeys. The Hen took alarm, and tried to run away; but Saddleback
made a rush, seized the Hen so fiercely that the string was broken, and
away he dashed toward the home valley.

Jake had fallen asleep, but the squawk of the Hen happened to awaken
him, and he sat up in time to see her borne away in old Saddleback's
jaws.

As soon as they were out of sight Jake took up the white-feather trail.
At first it was easily followed, for the Hen had shed plenty of plumes
in her struggles; but once she was dead in Saddleback's jaws, very few
feathers were dropped except where she was carried through the brush.
But Jake was following quietly and certainly, for Saddleback had gone
nearly in a straight line home to the little ones with the dangerous
tell-tale prize. Once or twice there was a puzzling delay when the
Coyote had changed his course or gone over an open place; but one white
feather was good for fifty yards, and when the daylight was gone, Jake
was not two hundred yards from the hollow, in which at that very moment
were the nine little pups, having a perfectly delightful time with the
Hen, pulling it to pieces, feasting and growling, sneezing the white
feathers from their noses or coughing them from their throats.

If a puff of wind had now blown from them toward Jake, it might have
carried a flurry of snowy plumes or even the merry cries of the little
revellers, and the den would have been discovered at once. But, as luck
would have it, the evening lull was on, and all distant sounds were
hidden by the crashing that Jake made in trying to trace his feather
guides through the last thicket.

About this time Tito was returning home with a Magpie that she had
captured by watching till it went to feed within the ribs of a dead
Horse, when she ran across Jake's trail. Now, a man on foot is always
a suspicious character in this country. She followed the trail for a
little to see where he was going, and that she knew at once from the
scent. How it tells her no one can say, yet all hunters know that it
does. And Tito marked that it was going straight toward her home.
Thrilled with new fear, she hid the bird she was carrying, then followed
the trail of the man. Within a few minutes she could hear him in the
thicket, and Tito realized the terrible danger that was threatening. She
went swiftly, quietly around to the den hollow, came on the heedless
little roisterers, after giving the signal-call, which prevented them
taking alarm at her approach; but she must have had a shock when she
saw how marked the hollow and the den were now, all drifted over with
feathers white as snow. Then she gave the danger-call that sent them all
to earth, and the little glade was still.

Her own nose was so thoroughly and always her guide that it was not
likely she thought of the white-feathers being the telltale. But now she
realized that a man, one she knew of old as a treacherous character, one
whose scent had always meant mischief to her, that had been associated
with all her own troubles and the cause of nearly all her desperate
danger, was close to her darlings; was tracking them down, in a few
minutes would surely have them in his merciless power.