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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
157
"Takes
a
heap
of
nerve
for
ten
big
Dogs
to
face
one
little
Coyote,"
remarked
the
father,
sarcastically.
"Wait
till
we
run
onto
a
Gray."
Next
day
we
were
out
again,
for
I
made
up
my
mind
to
see
it
to
a
finish.
From
a
high
point
we
caught
sight
of
a
moving
speck
of
gray.
A
moving
white
speck
stands
for
Antelope,
a
red
speck
for
Fox,
a
gray
speck
for
either
Gray-wolf
or
Coyote,
and
which
of
these
is
determined
by
its
tail.
If
the
glass
shows
the
tail
down,
it
is
a
Coyote;
if
up,
it
is
the
hated
Gray-wolf.
Dander
was
shown
the
game
as
before
and
led
the
motley
mixed
procession--as
he
had
before--Greyhounds,
Wolfhounds,
Foxhounds,
Danes,
Bull-terrier,
horsemen.
We
got
a
momentary
view
of
the
pursuit;
a
Gray-wolf
it
surely
was,
loping
away
ahead
of
the
Dogs.
Somehow
I
thought
the
first
Dogs
were
not
running
so
fast
now
as
they
had
after
the
Coyote.
But
no
one
knew
the
finish
of
the
hunt.
The
Dogs
came
back
to
us
one
by
one,
and
we
saw
no
more
of
that
Wolf.
Sarcastic
remarks
and
recrimination
were
now
freely
indulged
in
by
the
hunters.
"Pah--scairt,
plumb
scairt,"
was
the
father's
disgusted
comment
on
the
pack.
"They
could
catch
up
easy
enough,
but
when
he
turned
on
them,
they
lighted
out
for
home--pah!"
"Where's
that
thar
onsurpassable,
fearless,
scaired-o'-nort
Tarrier?"
asked
Hilton,
scornfully.
"I
don't
know,"
said
I.
"I
am
inclined
to
think
he
never
saw
the
Wolf;
but
if
he
ever
does,
I'll
bet
he
sails
in
for
death
or
glory."
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