76 WHERE ROLLS THE OREGON 



whirled us over the flats to the distant side of 

 the lake, where we were going to wade across to 

 the egret colony on the island. I was soon in the 

 water, stepping in the prints of the coyote which 

 plainly showed beneath the surface, deep in the 

 elastic, cement-like mud, and which led straight 

 for the colony of the egrets. I was about halfway 

 over, when a pistol shot rang out behind me and 

 I turned in my tracks to see a coyote scurrying 

 away from the automobile on three legs. 



Doubtless it was the one that only a few min- 

 utes before I had seen disappearing in the sage 

 and rabbit-brush a mile away. He had followed 

 us, had seen us well into the lake, and, thinking 

 we all were gone, had trotted boldly out to in- 

 spect the car, the first automobile, I imagine, to 

 penetrate to this desert haunt of his. But our 

 driver was lying in the shade beneath, the car, 

 watching, and when the coyote came within easy 

 range, fired at him, breaking his fore paw evi- 

 dently, by the way it dangled as the poor beast 

 spun about and dashed for the rocks. 4 



He was a wolf, to be sure ; but a wolf, if not an 

 earth-born companion, is at least a fellow-mortal ; 

 and I turned again to following the clean, sharp 



