IN THE FAR WEST. 135 



makes, if necessary, by digging with its claws, whereas the 

 large wolf produces its young in caves, the clefts of rocks, 

 under a tree, or in places where no digging is necessary. 

 The voice also seems to be a combination of the long howl of 

 the wolf and the yelp of the fox ; but so distinctly marked is 

 it from either, that once heard it is never forgotten. The 

 coyote has the strange peculiarity of making the cry of one 

 sound like that of many, and should two or three try their 

 larynx at the same time persons would fancy that large packs 

 were giving tongue in chorus. The cry seems to be divided 

 into two parts. Its first begins with a deep, long howl, then 

 runs rapidly up into a series of barks, and terminates in a 

 high scream, issued in prolonged jerks. 



This animal is larger than the fox, being about two feet 

 high, and, like it, has a long, slender, and rather sharp-pointed 

 muzzle. The eyes, which are close together, are of a light 

 brown colour ; the ears are long and erect ; the legs, especially 

 the hind ones, are very long, compared to its size ; the feet are 

 also long ; the pads are black and naked, and the tail, which 

 is bushy, and more than half the length of the body, is tipped 

 with white hairs. Its general colour is an ochreous gray, 

 which is much lighter on the abdomen than on the back and 

 sides ; and the long hairs on the neck, which it bristles up 

 when angry, have a speckled appearance when it is in that 

 mood. It hunts much at night, and its dismal howls may 

 then be heard a long distance off. Its cry, which is so much 

 execrated by those who feel that their life is not endangered 

 by red foes, is pleasant music to those who have to traverse 

 a country frequented by hostile Indians, for while it indulges 

 in midnight serenades they know that their most deadly 

 enemies are some distance away. Let its cries cease, however, 

 and the plainsmen, who have been lulled to serene sleep by its 

 wcii'd howls, would awake at once, and make preparations for 

 a struggle of life and death. Its voice has often been to 

 hunters what the geese were to ancient Home ; and this 

 characteristic has often been the means of saving its life, for 

 it was looked upon more as a friend than a foe, notwithstanding 

 its kleptomaniac propensities, and the natural antipathy of man 



