Little Bighead 99 



penser of cheer in a lonely corner of the 

 world. Its cracking and sputtering is al- 

 most like the voice of a friend. 



Now the coyote began his mournful 

 night-song, and a loon from far up the 

 river joined in to keep the small wolves 

 company. Some mallards were quacking 

 softly to themselves in the sedges along the 

 bank, and great bayou bullfrogs were sound- 

 ing their deep bass notes. 



The most sinister sound that came to 

 their ears was the far-away hunting-cry of 

 the great gray wolf, some grizzled old 

 leader calling to his pack as they skirted 

 the rear-guard of the herd of buffalo. Per- 

 haps it was a sick old bull, whom they had 

 cut out of the herd, or maybe it was a heifer 

 and her first calf. In either case it boded 

 no good for the quarry that the gray wolf 

 hunted that night. 



At the sound every hair upon Shep's back 

 went up and he trembled with excitement 



