230 BUFFALO LAND. 



in the hollows near their burrows. They have a 

 decidedly disagreeable penchant for serenading 

 travelers' camps at night, so that our late experience, 

 the guide assured me, was by no means uncommon. 

 They will steal in from all directions, and sit quietly 

 down on their haunches in a circle of investment. 

 Not a sound or sign of their coming do they make, 

 and, if on guard, one may imagine that every foot of 

 the country immediately surrounding is visible, and 

 utterly devoid of any animate object. All at once, 

 as if their tails were connected by a telegraphic wire, 

 and they had all been set going by electricity, the 

 whole line gives voice. The initial note is the only 

 one agreed upon. After striking that in concert, each 

 particular cayote goes it on his own account, and the 

 effect is so diabolical that I could readily excuse 

 Shamus for thinking that the dismal pit had opened. 



At this point Dobeen approached and cut off my 

 further gleaning of wolf lore. The corners of his 

 mouth seemed still inclined to twitch, showing that 

 the shock had not yet worn off. He was chilled by 

 the night, he said, and did not feel very well, and 

 craved our honors' permission to sleep at our feet in 

 the tent. Consent was given, and as he left us he 

 turned to announce his belief that animals with such 

 voices must have big throats. 



It was not yet light, next morning, when our camp 

 was all astir agfain. Drowsiness has no abiding place 

 with an expedition like ours upon the plains. Should 

 he be found lurking anywhere among the blankets, a 

 bucket of water, from some hand, routs him at once 

 and for the whole trip. Even Sachem, who usually 



