iv THE HOUND OF THE PLAINS 1 03 



night, that a band of coyotes was on the hunt in 

 the neighborhood ; and were aroused before day- 

 light next morning by the sudden outburst from 

 their clamorous throats. 



"Their musical cry, reckless and unguarded 

 now, resounded from hill to hill, and echoed in the 

 deep forest. All at once it burst upon the ear, as 

 if some messenger from the front had just arrived. 

 Past the lower ridge, down the forest to our left, 

 swept the pack, each hound seeming to rival the 

 other in noisy glee. Across the wind they gal- 

 loped, and the rising gusts bore to us that cheery 

 music long after they had passed far away through 

 the long glades and green savannahs." 



It is plain that an Englishman wrote that para- 

 graph. No one but a fox-hunter could take and 

 communicate such enjoyment from a chorus of 

 wolfish notes. 



Expecting their return, the hunter placed himself 

 at sunrise on a ridge overlooking Lake Nicaragua, 

 and makes us envy him by his description of the 

 scene, "of a grandeur and variety and loveliness," 

 he exclaims, " not to be surpassed in any Eden 

 of the world." 



" At length," he continues, " I fancied the breeze 

 brought a, faint clamor, as of dogs upon the scent. 

 Five minutes more and a tall buck, his coat all 

 staring and wet, his tongue hanging low, bounded 

 across a rocky stream choked with big-leaved plants, 

 which intersected one of the glades within my sight. 



