Badlands Billy 
him—that ’s old Billy. He ’s been watching 
us all day from some high place, and now when 
the guns are useless he ’s here to have a little 
fun with us.” 
Two or three Dogs arose, with bristling 
manes, for they clearly recognized that this 
was no Coyote. They rushed out into the night, 
but did not go far; their brawling sounds 
were suddenly varied by loud yelps, and they 
came running back to the shelter of the fire. 
One was so badly cut in the shoulder that he 
was useless for the rest of the hunt. Another 
was hurt in the flank—it seemed the less seri- 
ous wound, and yet next morning the hunters 
buried that second Dog. 
The men were furious. They vowed speedy 
vengeance, and at dawn were off on the trail. 
The Coyotes yelped their dawning song, but 
they melted into the hills when the light was 
strong. The hunters searched about for the 
big Wolf’s track, hoping that the Hounds would 
be able to take it up and find him, but they 
either could not or would not. 
They found a Coyote, however, and within 
a few hundred yards they killed him. It was a 
147 
