ALONG FOUR-FOOTED TRAILS 



whole week. I have given my portion to the 

 coyotes!" 



Late in the spring one of our cows came home 

 without her calf, heated, excited and with blood 

 on her horns. The coyotes had killed a num- 

 ber of calves in the neighborhood and ours had 

 probably met the same fate. And now the 

 farmers took a hand in the affair and poisoned 

 meat was placed along the coyote trails over the 

 prairie. A few days later I was riding my pony 

 over the hill when I saw a coyote struggling on 

 the ground with froth at her mouth. It was 

 Bruno. She was dying from arsenical poison- 

 ing. I leaped from my pony just as she died. 

 A stray stone was rolled close to her and some 

 cornstalks were gathered and placed over her. 

 Then mounting my pony again I rode quickly 

 to impart the news of Bruno's death to Law- 

 rence and to get his assistance in skinning her. 



Twelve years passed. I had my pets during 

 that period, but none ever took the place of 

 Bruno. I then lived in a large western city. 

 Often at night, when tired from the day's work, 

 I would throw myself on the library floor and 

 with the dear old coyote's skin for my pillow 



