BRUNO, MY PET COYOTE 



would fall asleep and dream of the old days on 

 the prairie. I heard again the howl of the coy- 

 ote, the prairie chicken drum for his mate and 

 the echo from hill to hill, like the noise of a 

 distant cannon. 



I lived again the old, wild, care-free days of 

 youth, only to wake with a start and to realize 

 that it was all a dream. That I must read over 

 the pile of business letters and see nothing but 

 rows and rows of brick and mortar. How dif- 

 ferent it all was from the great stretches of green 

 prairie, the wide breadth of horizon, the pano- 

 rama of clouds, the merry whistle of the western 

 winds, the songs of birds, even if they were only 

 conjured up in dreams. 



[33] 



