THE COYOTE OF PELICAN POINT 29 



He had vanished before my eyes. I had not seen him 

 move, although I had been watching him steadily. 



"Queer, isn't it?" said the warden. "It's not 

 his particular dodge, for every old coyote that has 

 been hunted learns to work it; but I never knew 

 one that had it down so fine as this sinner. There's 

 next to nothing here for him to skulk behind. Why, 

 he has given my dog the slip right here on the bare 

 rock! But I'll fix him yet," 



I did not have to be persuaded to stay overnight 

 with the warden for the coyote-hunt the next day. 

 The warden, I found, had fallen in with a Mr. 

 Harris, a homesteader, who had been something of 

 a professional coyote-hunter. Harris had just arrived 

 in southern Oregon, and had brought with him his 



O 7 O 



dogs, a long, graceful greyhound, and his fighting 

 mate, a powerful Russian wolfhound; both were 

 crack coyote dogs from down Saskatchewan. He 

 had accepted the warden's ofiPer of fifty dollars for 

 the hide of the coyote of Pelican Point, and was now 

 on his way round the lake. 



The outfit appeared late the next day, and con- 

 sisted of the two dogs, a horse and buckboard, and 

 a big, empty dry-goods box. 



I had hunted possums in the gum swamps of the 

 South with a stick and a gunny-sack, but this rig, 

 on the rocky, roadless shores of the lake a dry- 

 goods box for coyotes! beat any hunting combina- 

 tion I had ever seen. 



