IIl4 WILD NEIGHBORS CHAP. 
beyond mere instinct.” A cage was next con- 
structed, into which the wolves might enter, but 
out of which they could not depart. The coyotes 
came, admired the arrangement, sang doleful 
lamentations over the bait, which they could see 
and smell but could not taste, and went away 
again. 
Disappointed here, Mr. Peale next began a series 
of experiments with steel traps, one of which, pro- 
fusely baited, was concealed among the leaves. 
Plenty of tracks alone rewarded this effort. “You 
can’t live on tracks” is one of the aphorisms of 
the Plains. Then a seductive bait was suspended 
above the trap in the midst of several other pieces; 
but the expected victims, stepping circumspectly, 
carried off all the meat except the one piece it was 
intended they should take. Baits were next hung 
up as before, the trap was buried in leaves and 
these were burned, so that the trap, scorched free 
from any odor of human hands, lay covered with 
ashes; still the one bait over the steel jaws was 
avoided, and no sinewy foot was pinched. Finally 
a wicked arrangement of innocent-looking logs set 
on a trigger was made to fall upon the wolf and 
destroy him. Peale got his “specimen,” but it 
was only by brute force: the coyote had been a 
match for him in brains. 
The remarkable craftiness of this animal, to- 
gether with its secretive disposition, nocturnal 
prowling, and power of annoyance, have caused 
