Read Johnny Bear, and Other Stories from Lives of the Hunted Page 3


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  He coughed a good deal, too, and seemed wretched, except when in Norah'slap. Here he would cuddle up contentedly, and whine most miserably whenshe had to set him down again in his basket.

  A few days before the closing of the Hotel, he refused his usualbreakfast, and whined softly till Norah took him in her lap; then hefeebly snuggled up to her, and his soft _Er-r-r Er-r-r_ grew fainter,till it ceased. Half an hour later, when she laid him down to go abouther work, Little Johnny had lost the last trace of his anxiety to seeand know what was going on.

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  TITO THE STORY OF THE COYOTE THAT LEARNED HOW

  I

  Raindrop may deflect a thunderbolt, or a hair may ruin an empire, assurely as a spider-web once turned the history of Scotland; and if ithad not been for one little pebble, this history of Tito might neverhave happened.

  That pebble was lying on a trail in the Dakota Badlands, and one hot,dark night it lodged in the foot of a Horse that was ridden by a tipsycow-boy. The man got off, as a matter of habit, to know what was laminghis Horse. But he left the reins on its neck instead of on the ground,and the Horse, taking advantage of this technicality, ran off in thedarkness. Then the cow-boy, realizing that he was afoot, lay down ina hollow under some buffalo-bushes and slept the loggish sleep of thebefuddled.

  The golden beams of the early summer sun were leaping from top to top ofthe wonderful Badland Buttes, when an old Coyote might have been seentrotting homeward along the Garner's Creek Trail with a Rabbit in herjaws to supply her family's breakfast.

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  Fierce war had for a long time been waged against the Coyote kind bythe cattlemen of Billings County. Traps, guns, poison, and Hounds hadreduced their number nearly to zero, and the few survivors had learnedthe bitter need of caution at every step. But the destructive ingenuityof man knew no bounds, and their numbers continued to dwindle.

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  The old Coyote quit the trail very soon, for nothing that man has madeis friendly. She skirted along a low ridge, then across a little hollowwhere grew a few buffalo-bushes, and, after a careful sniff at a verystale human trail-scent, she crossed another near ridge on whose sunnyside was the home of her brood. Again she cautiously circled, peeredabout, and sniffed, but, finding no sign of danger, went down tothe doorway and uttered a low _woof-woof._ Out of the den, beside asage-bush, there poured a procession of little Coyotes, merrily tumblingover one another. Then, barking little barks and growling little puppygrowls, they fell upon the feast that their mother had brought, andgobbled and tussled while she looked on and enjoyed their joy.

  Wolver Jake, the cow-boy, had awakened from his chilly sleep aboutsunrise, in time to catch a glimpse of the Coyote passing over theridge. As soon as she was out of sight he got on his feet and wentto the edge, there to witness the interesting scene of the familybreakfasting and frisking about within a few yards of him, utterlyunconscious of any danger.

  But the only appeal the scene had to him lay in the fact that the countyhad set a price on every one of these Coyotes' lives. So he got outhis big .45 navy revolver, and notwithstanding his shaky condition, hemanaged somehow to get a sight on the mother as she was caressing one ofthe little ones that had finished its breakfast, and shot her dead onthe spot.

  The terrified cubs fled into the den, and Jake, failing to kill anotherwith his revolver, came forward, blocked up the hole with stones,and leaving the seven little prisoners quaking at the far end, set offon foot for the nearest ranch, cursing his faithless Horse as he went.

  In the afternoon he returned with his pard and tools for digging. Thelittle ones had cowered all day in the darkened hole, wondering whytheir mother did not come to feed them, wondering at the darkness andthe change. But late that day they heard sounds at the door. Then lightwas again let in. Some of the less cautious young ones ran forward tomeet their mother, but their mother was not there--only two great roughbrutes that began tearing open their home.

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  After an hour or more the diggers came to the end of the den, and herewere the woolly, bright-eyed, little ones, all huddled in a pile at thefarthest corner. Their innocent puppy faces and ways were not noticedby the huge enemy. One by one they were seized. A sharp blow, and eachquivering, limp form was thrown into a sack to be carried to the nearestmagistrate who was empowered to pay the bounties.

  Even at this stage there was a certain individuality of character amongthe puppies. Some of them squealed and some of them growled when draggedout to die. One or two tried to bite. The one that had been slowest tocomprehend the danger, had been the last to retreat, and so was on topof the pile, and therefore the first killed. The one that had firstrealized the peril had retreated first, and now crouched at the bottomof the pile. Coolly and remorselessly the others were killed one byone, and then this prudent little puppy was seen to be the last of thefamily. It lay perfectly still, even when touched, its eyes being halfclosed, as, guided by instinct, it tried to "play possum." One of themen picked it up. It neither squealed nor resisted. Then Jake, realizingever the importance of "standing in with the boss," said: "Say, let'skeep that 'un for the children." So the last of the family was thrownalive into the same bag with its dead brothers, and, bruised andfrightened, lay there very still, understanding nothing, knowing onlythat after a long time of great noise and cruel jolting it was againhalf strangled by a grip on its neck and dragged out, where were a lotof creatures like the diggers.

  These were really the inhabitants of the Chimneypot Ranch, whose brandis the Broad-arrow; and among them were the children for whom the cubhad been brought. The boss had no difficulty in getting Jake to acceptthe dollar that the cub Coyote would have brought in bounty-money,and his present was turned over to the children. In answer to theirquestion, "What is it?" a Mexican cow-hand, present said it was aCoyotito--that is, a "little Coyote,"--and this, afterward shortened to"Tito," became the captive's name.

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  II

  Tito was a pretty little creature, with woolly body, a puppy-likeexpression, and a head that was singularly broad between the ears.

  But, as a children's pet, she--for it proved to be a female--was not asuccess. She was distant and distrustful. She ate her food and seemedhealthy, but never responded to friendly advances; never {Illustration:Coyotito, the Captive} even learned to come out of the box when called.This probably was due to the fact that the kindness of the smallchildren was offset by the roughness of the men and boys, who did nothesitate to drag her out by the chain when they wished to see her. Onthese occasions she would suffer in silence, playing possum, shammingdead, for she seemed to know that that was the best thing to do. But assoon as released she would once more retire into the darkest corner ofher box, and watch her tormentors with eyes that, at the proper angle,showed a telling glint of green.

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  Among the children of the ranchmen was a thirteen-year-old boy.The fact that he grew up to be like his father, a kind, strong, andthoughtful man, did not prevent him being, at this age, a shamelesslittle brute.

  Like all boys in that country, he practised lasso-throwing, with a viewto being a cow-boy. Posts and stumps are uninteresting things to catch.His little brothers and sisters were under special protection of theHome Government. The Dogs ran far away whenever they saw him coming withthe rope in his hands. So he must needs practise on the unfortunateCoyotito. She soon learned that her only hope for peace was to hide inthe kennel, or, if thrown at when outside, to dodge the rope by lying asflat as possible on the ground. Thus Lincoln unwittingly taught theCoyote the dangers and limitations of a rope, and so he proved ablessing in disguise--a very perfect disguise. When the Coyote hadthoroughly learned how to baffle the lasso, the boy terror devised a newamusement. He got a large trap of the kind known as "Fox-size." This heset in the dust as he had seen Jake set a Wolf-trap, close to thekennel, and over it he scattered scraps of meat, in the most approvedstyle for Wolf-trap
ping. After a while Tito, drawn by the smell of themeat, came hungrily sneaking out toward it, and almost immediately wascaught in the trap by one foot. The boy terror was watching from a nearhiding-place. He gave a wild Indian whoop of delight, then rushedforward to drag the Coyote out of the box into which she had retreated.After some more delightful thrills of excitement and struggle he got hislasso on Tito's body, and, helped by a younger brother, a most promisingpupil, he succeeded in setting the Coyote free from the trap before thegrown-ups had discovered his amusement. One or two experiences like thistaught her a mortal terror of traps. She soon learned the smell of thesteel, and could detect and avoid it, no matter how cleverly MasterLincoln might bury it in the dust while the younger brother screened theoperation from the intended victim by holding his coat over the door ofTito's kennel.

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  One day the fastening of her chain gave way, and Tito went off in anuncertain fashion, trailing her chain behind her. But she was seen byone of the men, who fired a charge of bird-shot at her. The burning,stinging, and surprise of it all caused her to retreat to the one placeshe knew, her own kennel. The chain was fastened again, and Tito addedto her ideas this, a horror of guns and the smell of gunpowder; and thisalso, that the one safety from them is to "lay low."

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  There were yet other rude experiences in store for the captive.

  Poisoning Wolves was a topic of daily talk at the Ranch, so it was notsurprising that Lincoln should privately experiment on Coyotito. Thedeadly strychnine was too well guarded to be available. So Lincoln hidsome Rough on Rats in a piece of meat, threw it to the captive, andsat by to watch, as blithe and conscience-clear as any professor ofchemistry trying a new combination.

  Tito smelled the meat--everything had to be passed on by her nose.Her nose was in doubt. There was a good smell of meat, a familiar butunpleasant smell of human hands, and a strange new odour, but not theodour of the trap; so she bolted the morsel. Within a few minutes beganto have fearful pains in stomach, followed by cramps. Now in all theWolf tribe there is the instinctive habit to throw up anything thatdisagrees with them, and after a minute or two of suffering the Coyotesought relief in this way; and to make it doubly sure she hastilygobbled some blades of grass, and in less than an hour was quite wellagain.

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  Lincoln had put in poison enough for a dozen Coyotes. Had he put in lessshe could not have felt the pang till too late, but she recovered andnever forgot that peculiar smell that means such awful after-pains. Morethan that, she was ready thenceforth to fly at once to the herbal curethat Nature had everywhere provided. An instinct of this kind growsquickly, once followed. It had taken minutes of suffering in the firstplace to drive her to the easement. Thenceforth, having learned, itwas her first thought on feeling pain. The little miscreant did indeedsucceed in having her swallow another bait with a small dose of poison,but she knew what to do now and had almost no suffering.

  Later on, a relative sent Lincoln a Bull-terrier, and the newcombination was a fresh source of spectacular interest for the boy, andof tribulation for the Coyote. It all emphasized for her that old ideato "lay low"--that is, to be quiet, unobtrusive, and hide when dangeris in sight. The grown-ups of the household at length forbade thesepersecutions, and the Terrier was kept away from the little yard wherethe Coyote was chained up.

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  It must not be supposed that, in all this, Tito was a sweet, innocentvictim. She had learned to bite. She had caught and killed severalchickens by shamming sleep while they ventured to forage within theradius of her chain. And she had an inborn hankering to sing a morningand evening hymn, which procured for her many beatings. But she learnedto shut up, the moment her opening notes were followed by a rattle ofdoors or windows, for these sounds of human nearness had frequently beenfollowed by a "_bang_" and a charge of bird-shot, which somehow did noserious harm, though it severely stung her hide. And these experiencesall helped to deepen her terror of guns and of those who used them. Theobject of these musical outpourings was not clear. They happened usuallyat dawn or dusk, but sometimes a loud noise at high noon would set hergoing. The song consisted of a volley of short barks, mixed with dolefulsqualls that never failed to set the Dogs astir in a responsive uproar,and once or twice had begotten a far-away answer from some wild Coyotein the hills.

  There was one little trick that she had developed which was purelyinstinctive--that is, an inherited habit. In the back end of her kennelshe had a little _cache_ of bones, and knew exactly where one or twolumps of unsavoury meat were buried within the radius of her chain, fora time of famine which never came. If anyone approached thesehidden treasures she watched with anxious eyes, but made no otherdemonstration. If she saw that the meddler knew the exact place, shetook an early opportunity to secrete them elsewhere.

  After a year of this life Tito had grown to full size, and had learnedmany things that her wild kinsmen could not have learned without losingtheir lives in doing it. She knew and feared traps. She had learned toavoid poison baits, and knew what to do at once if, by some mistake,she should take one. She knew what guns are. She had learned to cut hermorning and evening song very short. She had some acquaintance withDogs, enough to make her hate and distrust them all. But, above all, shehad this idea: whenever danger is near, the very best move possible isto lay low, be very quiet, do nothing to attract notice. Perhaps thelittle brain that looked out of those changing yellow eyes was thestorehouse of much other knowledge about men, but what it was did notappear.

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  The Coyote was fully grown when the boss of the outfit bought a coupleof thoroughbred Greyhounds, wonderful runners, to see whether he couldnot entirely extirpate the remnant of the Coyotes that still destroyedoccasional Sheep and Calves on the range, and at the same time findamusement in the sport. He was tired of seeing that Coyote in the yard;so, deciding to use her for training the Dogs, he had her roughly throwninto a bag, then carried a quarter of a mile away and dumped out. At thesame time the Greyhounds were slipped and chivvied on. Away they wentbounding at their matchless pace, that nothing else on four legs couldequal, and away went the Coyote, frightened by the noise of the men,frightened even to find herself free. Her quarter-mile start quicklyshrank to one hundred yards, the one hundred to fifty, and on sped theflying Dogs. Clearly there was no chance for her. On and nearer theycame. In another minute she would have been stretched out--not a doubtof it. But on a sudden she stopped, turned, and walked toward the Dogswith her tail serenely waving in the air and a friendly cock to herears. Greyhounds are peculiar Dogs. Anything that runs away, they aregoing to catch and kill if they can. Anything that is calmly facing thembecomes at once a non-combatant. They bounded over and past the Coyotebefore they could curb their own impetuosity, and returned completelynonplussed. Possibly they recognized the Coyote of the house-yard asshe stood there wagging her tail. The ranchmen were nonplussed too.Every one was utterly taken aback, had a sense of failure, and the realvictor in the situation was felt to be the audacious little Coyote.

  The Greyhounds refused to attack an animal that wagged its tail andwould not run; and the men, on seeing that the Coyote could _walk_ farenough away to avoid being caught by hand, took their ropes (lassoes),and soon made her a prisoner once more. The next day they decided to tryagain, but this time they added the white Bull-terrier to the chasers.The Coyote did as before. The Greyhounds declined to be party to anyattack on such a mild and friendly acquaintance. But the Bull-terrier,who came puffing and panting on the scene three minutes later, had nosuch scruples. He was not so tall, but he was heavier than the Coyote,and, seizing her by her wool-protected neck, he shook her till, in asurprisingly short time, she lay limp and lifeless, at which all themen seemed pleased, and congratulated the Terrier, while the Greyhoundspottered around in restless perplexity.

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  A stranger in the party, a newly arrived Englishman, asked if he mighthave the brush--the tail, he explained
--and on being told to helphimself, he picked up the victim by the tail, and with one awkward chopof his knife he cut it off at the middle, and the Coyote dropped, butgave a shrill yelp of pain. She was not dead, only playing possum, andnow she leaped up and vanished into a near-by thicket of cactus andsage.

  With Greyhounds a running animal is the signal for a run, so the twolong-legged Dogs and the white broad-chested Dog dashed after theCoyote. But right across their path, by happy chance, there flashed abrown streak ridden by a snowy powder-puff, the visible but evanescentsign for Cottontail Rabbit. The Coyote was not in sight now. The Rabbitwas, so the Greyhounds dashed after the Cottontail, who took advantageof a Prairie-dog's hole to seek safety in the bosom of Mother Earth, andthe Coyote made good her escape.

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  She had been a good deal jarred by the rude treatment of the Terrier,and her mutilated tail gave her some pain. But otherwise she was allright, and she loped lightly away, keeping out of sight in the hollows,and so escaped among the fantastic buttes of the Badlands, to beeventually the founder of a new life among the Coyotes of the LittleMissouri.

  Moses was preserved by the Egyptians till he had outlived the dangerousperiod, and learned from them wisdom enough to be the saviour of hispeople against those same Egyptians. So the bobtailed Coyote was notonly saved by man and carried over the dangerous period of puppyhood:she was also unwittingly taught by him how to baffle the traps, poisons,lassoes, guns, and Dogs that had so long waged a war of exterminationagainst her race.