I0 6 Life in the Open 



Greyhounds, except in rare cases, have no scent, at 

 least it is of little use ; they run by sight only ; and as 

 the master spoke a familiar word that in the universal 

 language meant game, each dog raised his head and 

 looked eagerly forward. Some leaped bodily into the 

 air and glanced around quickly ; then, all seeing the dim 

 form ahead, lengthened out and rushed on, followed by 

 the roar of pounding hoofs, the clanking of snaffles and 

 chains. There is nothing quite like this sudden leap 

 into action of twenty or thirty horses as eager for the 

 sport as their riders ; and that they enjoy it every wolf 

 hunter will tell you. 



The coyote held his post for a second, then, seeing 

 that what he might have taken for a lot of herders or a 

 herd of cattle were coming his way, he swung around, 

 dropping his tail and head, broke into an easy run, and 

 slipped down the side of a wash where the white sand 

 of a little arroyo wound away, flanked by prickly pear 

 and sage. 



Over the bank went the dogs, spreading out like a 

 fan by instinct, followed by the hunt, the knowing horses 

 settling on their haunches and taking the slide as a 

 toboggan, then lengthening out into long lines in the 

 wash. Suddenly the coyote dashed to the left, up an 

 old trail he and his ancestors had made, and regained 

 the mesa ; the hunt going on to some break, and losing 

 by this clever trick. Once up on the plain again, the 

 hounds were seen well bunched, and the hunt now 

 stretched out, the good horses taking the lead, the poor 



