There went Scotch, as I supposed, racing for the 

 yelping pack, but the visiting collie was not to 

 be seen. The pack beat the usual sullen, scatter- 

 ing retreat, and while the dog, which I supposed 

 to be Scotch, was chasing the last slow tormenter 

 into the woods, from behind the crag came the 

 big limping coyote, hurrying toward the willow 

 clump from behind which he was accustomed to 

 yelp triumphantly in Scotch's rear. I raised the 

 glass for a better look, all the time wondering 

 where the visiting collie was keeping himself. I 

 was unable to see him, yet I recollected he was 

 with Scotch less than an hour before. 



The lame coyote came round the willow clump 

 as usual, and threw up his head as though to bay 

 at the moon. Then the unexpected happened. 

 On the instant, Scotch leaped into the air out of 

 the willow clump, and came down upon the coy- 

 ote's back ! They rolled about for some time, when 

 the coyote finally shook himself free and started 

 at a lively limping pace for the woods, only to be 

 grabbed again by the visiting collie, which had 

 been chasing the pack, and which I had mistaken 

 for Scotch. The pack beat a swift retreat. For 



i37 



