"MORE HASTE, WORSE SPEED" 127 



there were no chickens near, and was not so 

 careful about the noise. So soon, therefore, 

 as I turned off the path to go to these stones, 

 they became invested with life. A veritable 

 cayote (prairie wolf) sprang up and started 

 for the upper bank, with a surprised hunter 

 after him. The old adage was never truer, 

 " The more haste the worse speed," than 

 when I was trying to find a cartridge of large 

 shot. Every other kind but the one wanted 

 came to my hand. In the mean time the 

 cayote was making the most of the delay, so 

 that when I was ready to speak to him he was 

 80 yards away, going like a streak. I did not 

 expect to stop him, and didn't, but merely let 

 him know he had been seen. Had Harry been 

 with me, that cayote would have been ours, as 

 he would have known at once what my pile 

 of stones was, and stopped him right there. 



Beady flushed several chickens before leav- 

 ing the ravine, of which I shot a brace. 

 Another cover was in sight, to which I went, 

 and there found the game abundant, Eeady 

 starting birds in all directions. 



I had fired five shots, securing as many 

 birds, when suddenly my attention was aroused 



