/82 SUMMER 



I held my breath. Harris, I think, would have 

 j taken his fifty dollars then and there ! And the warden 

 j[ would have handed it to him, despite his past experi- 

 ence with the beast; but suddenly the coyote headed 

 straight off for a low manzanita bush that stood up 

 amid the scraggly sagebrush back from the shore. 



The hunt was now going directly from us, with the 

 dust and the wolfhound behind, following the line in 

 front. The gap between the greyhound and the coy- 

 ote seemed to have closed, and when the hound took 

 the low manzanita with a bound that was half-somer- 

 sault, Harris exclaimed, " He's nailed him ! " and we 

 | ran ahead to see the wolfhound complete the job. 



The wolfhound, however, kept right on across the 

 desert; the greyhound lagged uncertainly far behind; 

 in the lead, ahead of the big grizzled wolfhound, 

 bobbed the form of a fleeing jack-rabbit ! 



The look of astonishment and then of disgust on 

 Harris's face was amusing to see. The warden may 

 have been disappointed, but he did not take any 

 pains to repress a chuckle. 



Harris said nothing. He was searching the stunted 

 sagebrush off to the left of us. We followed his eyes, 

 and he and the warden, both experienced plainsmen, 

 picked out the skulking, shadowy shape of the coy- 

 ote, as the creature, with belly to the ground, slunk 

 off out of sight. 



It was too late for any further attempt that night. 



"An old stager, sure," Harris commented, as we 





