Read Johnny Bear, and Other Stories from Lives of the Hunted Page 5


  Tito had a curious fad, occasionally seen among the Wolves and Coyotes,of carrying in her mouth, for miles, such things as seemed to beinteresting and yet were not tempting as eatables. Many a time had shetrotted a mile or two with an old Buffalo-horn or a cast-off shoe, onlyto drop it when something else attracted her attention. The cow-boys whoremark these things have various odd explanations to offer: one,that it is done to stretch the jaws, or keep them in practice, just as aman in training carries weights. Coyotes have, in common with Dogs andWolves, the habit of calling at certain stations along their line oftravel, to leave a record of their visit. These stations may be a stone,a tree, a post, or an old Buffalo-skull, and the Coyote calling therecan learn, by the odour and track of the last comer, just who the callerwas, whence he came, and whither he went. The whole country is markedout by these intelligence depots. Now it often happens that a Coyote,that has not much else to do will carry a dry bone or some other uselessobject in its mouth, but sighting the signal-post, will go toward it toget the news, lay down the bone, and afterwards forget to take it along,so that the signal-posts in time become further marked with a curiouscollection of odds and ends.

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  This singular habit was the cause of a disaster to the Chimney-potWolf-hounds, and a corresponding advantage to the Coyotes in the war.Jake had laid a line of poison baits on the western bluffs. Tito knewwhat they were, and spurned them as usual; but finding more later, shegathered up three or four and crossed the Little Missouri toward theranch-house. This she circled at a safe distance; but when somethingmade the pack of Dogs break out into clamour, Tito dropped the baits,and next day, when the Dogs were taken out for exercise they found anddevoured these scraps of meat, so that in ten minutes, there were fourhundred dollars' worth of Greyhounds lying dead. This led to an edictagainst poisoning in that district, and thus was a great boon to theCoyotes.

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  Tito quickly learned that not only each kind of game must be hunted in aspecial way, but different ones of each kind may require quite differenttreatment. The Prairie-dog with the outlying den was really an easyprey, but the town was quite compact now that he was gone. Near thecentre of it was a fine, big, fat Prairie-dog, a perfect alderman, thatshe had made several vain attempts to capture. On one occasion she hadcrawled almost within leaping distance, when the angry _bizz_ of aRattlesnake just ahead warned her that she was in danger. Not that theRatler cared anything about the Prairie-dog, but he did not wish tobe disturbed; and Tito, who had an instinctive fear of the Snake, wasforced to abandon the hunt. The open stalk proved an utter, failure withthe Alderman, for the situation of his den made every Dog in the townhis sentinel; but he was too good to lose, and Tito waited untilcircumstances made a new plan.

  All Coyotes have a trick of watching from a high look-out whateverpasses along the roads. After it has passed they go down and examine itstrack. Tito had this habit, except that she was always careful to keepout of sight herself.

  One day a wagon passed from the town to the southward. Tito lay low andwatched it. Something dropped on the road. When the wagon was out ofsight Tito sneaked down, first to smell the trail as a matter of habit,second to see what it was that had dropped. The object was really anapple, but Tito saw only an unattractive round green thing like acactus-leaf without spines, and of a peculiar smell. She snuffed it,spurned it, and was about to pass on; but the sun shone on it sobrightly, and it rolled so curiously when she pawed, that she picked itup in a mechanical way and trotted back over the rise, where are foundherself at the Dog-town. Just then two great Prairie-hawks came skimminglike pirates over the plain. As soon as they were in sight thePrairie-dogs all barked, jerking their tails at each bark, and hid below.When all were gone Tito walked on toward the hole of the big fat fellow whosebody she coveted, and dropping the apple on the ground a couple of feetfrom the rim of the crater that formed his home, she put her nose downto enjoy the delicious smell of Dog-fat. Even his den smelled morefragrant than those of the rest. Then she went quietly behind agreasewood bush, in a lower place some twenty yards away, and lay flat.After a few seconds some venturesome Prairie-dog looked out, and seeingnothing, gave the "all's well" bark. One by one they came out, and intwenty minutes the town was alive as before. One of the last to come outwas the fat old Alderman. He always took good care of his own preciousself. He peered out cautiously a few times, then climbed to the top ofhis look-out. A Prairie-dog hole is shaped like a funnel, going straightdown. Around the top of this is built a high ridge which serves as alook-out, and also makes sure that, no matter how they may slip in theirhurry, they are certain to drop into the funnel and be swallowed up bythe all-protecting earth. On the outside the ground slopes away gentlyfrom the funnel. Now, when the Alderman saw that strange round thing athis threshold he was afraid. Second inspection led him to believe thatit was not dangerous, but was probably interesting. He went cautiouslytoward it, smelled it, and tried to nibble it; but the apple rolledaway, for it was round, and the ground was smooth as well as sloping.The Prairie-dog followed and gave it a nip which satisfied him that thestrange object would make good eating. But each time he nibbled, itrolled farther away. The coast seemed clear, all the other Prairie-dogswere out, so the fat Alderman did not hesitate to follow up the dodging,shifting apple.

  This way and that it wriggled, and he followed. Of course it workedtoward the low place where grew the greasewood bush. The little tastesof apple that he got only whetted his appetite. The Alderman was moreand more interested. Foot by foot he was led from his hole toward thatold, familiar bush and had no thought of anything but the joy of eating.And Tito curled herself and braced her sinewy legs, and measured thedistance between, until it dwindled to not more than three good jumps;then up and like an arrow she went, and grabbed and bore him off atlast.

  It will never be known whether it was accident or design that led to theplacing of that apple, but it proved important, and if such a thing wereto happen once or twice to a smart Coyote,--and it is usually cleverones that get such chances,--it might easily grow into a new trick ofhunting.

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  After a hearty meal Tito buried the rest in a cold place, not to get ridof it, but to hide it for future use; and a little later, when she wastoo weak to hunt much, her various hoards of this sort came in veryuseful. True, the meat had turned very strong; but Tito was notcritical, and she had no fears or theories of microbes, so suffered noill effects.

  VIII.

  The lovely Hiawathan spring was touching all things in the fairyBadlands. Oh, why are they called Badlands? If Nature sat downdeliberately on the eighth day of creation and said, "Now work is done,let's play; let's make a place that shall combine everything that isfinished and wonderful and beautiful--a paradise for man and bird andbeast," it was surely then that she made these wild, fantastic hills,teeming with life, radiant with gayest flowers, varied with sylvangroves, bright with prairie sweeps and brimming lakes and streams. Inforeground, offing, and distant hills that change at every step, we findsome proof that Nature squandered here the riches that in other landsshe used as sparingly as gold, with colourful sky above and colourfulland below, and the distance blocked by sculptured buttes that are builtof precious stones and ores, and tinged as by a lasting and unspeakablesunset. And yet, for all this ten tunes gorgeous wonderland enchanted,blind man has found no better name than one which says, _the road to itis hard_.

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  The little hollow west of Chimney Butte was freshly grassed. Thedangerous-looking Spanish bayonets, that through the bygone winterhad waged war with all things, now sent out their contribution to thepeaceful triumph of the spring, in flowers that have stirred even thechilly scientists to name them _Gloriosa_; and the cactus, poisonous,most reptilian of herbs, surprised the world with a splendid bloom aslittle like itself as the pearl is like its mother shell-fish. The sageand the greasewood lent their gold, and the sand-anemone tinged theBadland hills like bluish snow; and in the air and earth and
hills onevery hand was felt the fecund promise of the spring. This was the endof the winter famine, the beginning of the summer feast, and this Iwas the time by the All-mother, ordained when first the little Coyotesshould see the light of day.

  A mother does not have to learn to love her helpless, squirming brood.They bring the love with them--not much or little, not measurable, butperfect love. And in that dimly lighted warm abode she fondled them andlicked them and cuddled them with heartful warmth of tenderness, thatwas as much a new epoch in her life as in theirs.

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  But the pleasure of loving them was measured in the same measure asanxiety for their safety. In bygone days her care had been mainly forherself. All she had learned in her strange puppyhood, all she hadpicked up since, was bent to the main idea of self-preservation. Now shewas ousted from her own affections by her brood. Her chief care was tokeep their home concealed, and this was not very hard at first, for sheleft them only when she must, to supply her own wants.

  She came and went with great care, and only after spying well the landso that none should see and find the place of her treasure. If it werepossible for the little ones' idea of their mother and the cow-boys'idea to be set side by side they would be found to have nothing incommon, though both were right in their point of view. The ranchmen{Illustration: Tito and her Brood.} knew the Coyote only as a pairof despicable, cruel jaws, borne around on tireless legs, steered byincredible cunning, and leaving behind a track of destruction. Thelittle ones knew her as a loving, gentle, all-powerful guardian. Forthem her breast was soft and warm and infinitely tender. She fed andwarmed them, she was their wise and watchful keeper. She was always athand with food when they hungered, with wisdom to foil the cunning oftheir foes, and with a heart of courage tried to crown her well-laidplans for them with uniform success.

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  A baby Coyote is a shapeless, senseless, wriggling, and--to every onebut its mother--a most uninteresting little lump. But after its eyes areopen, after it has developed its legs, after it has learned to play inthe sun with its brothers, or run at the gentle call of its mother whenshe brings home game for it to feed on, the baby Coyote becomes one ofthe cutest, dearest little rascals on earth. And when the nine thatmade up Coyotito's brood had reached this stage, it did not require theglamour of motherhood to make them objects of the greatest interest.

  The summer was now on. The little ones were beginning to eat flesh-meat,and Tito, with some assistance from Saddleback, was kept busy to supplyboth themselves and the brood. Sometimes she brought them a Prairie-dog,at other times she would come home with a whole bunch of Gophersand Mice in her jaws; and once or twice, by the clever trick ofrelay-chasing, she succeeded in getting one of the big NorthernJack-rabbits for the little folks at home.

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  After they had feasted they would lie around in the sun for a time. Titowould mount guard on a bank and scan the earth and air with her keen,brassy eye, lest any dangerous foe should find their happy valley; andthe merry pups played little games of tag, or chased the Butterflies, orhad apparently desperate encounters with each other, or tore and worriedthe bones and feathers that now lay about the threshold of the home.One, the least, for there is usually a runt, stayed near the mother andclimbed on her back or pulled at her tail. They made a lovely picture asthey played, and the wrestling group in the middle seemed the focusof it all at first; but a keener, later look would have rested on themother, quiet, watchful, not without anxiety, but, above all, with aface full of motherly tenderness. Oh, she was so proud and happy, andshe would sit there and watch them and silently love them till it wastime to go home, or until some sign of distant danger showed. Then, witha low growl, she gave the signal, and all disappeared from sight in atwinkling, after which she would set off to meet and turn the danger, orgo on a fresh hunt for food.

  IX.

  Oliver Jake had several plans for making a fortune, but each in turn wasabandoned as soon as he found that it meant work. At one time or othermost men of this kind see the chance of their lives in a poultry-farm.They cherish the idea that somehow the poultry do all the work. Andwithout troubling himself about the details, Jake devoted an unexpectedwindfall to the purchase of a dozen Turkeys for his latest scheme. TheTurkeys were duly housed in one end of Jake's shanty, so as to be wellguarded, and for a couple of days were the object of absorbing interest,and had the best of care--too much, really. But Jake's ardour wanedabout the third day; then the recurrent necessity for long celebrationsat Medora, and the ancient allurements of idle hours spent lying on thetops of sunny buttes and of days spent sponging on the hospitalityof distant ranches, swept away the last pretence of attention to hispoultry-farm. The Turkeys were utterly neglected--left to forage forthemselves; and each time that Jake returned to his uninviting shanty,after a few days' absence, he found fewer birds, till at last none butthe old Gobbler was left.

  Jake cared little about the loss, but was filled with indignationagainst the thief.

  He was now installed as wolver to the Broadarrow outfit. That is, he wassupplied with poison, traps, and Horses, and was also entitled to all hecould make out of Wolf bounties. A reliable man would have gotten pay inaddition, for the ranchmen are generous, but Jake was not reliable.

  Every wolver knows, of course, that his business naturally drops intoseveral well-marked periods.

  In the late whiter and early spring--the love-season--the Hounds willnot hunt a She-wolf. They will quit the trail of a He-wolf at thistime--to take up that of a She-wolf, but when they do overtake her, they,for some sentimental reason, invariably let her go in peace. In Augustand September the young Coyotes and Wolves are just beginning to runalone, and they are then easily trapped and poisoned. A month or solater the survivors have learned how to take care of themselves, but inthe early summer the wolver knows that there are dens full of littleones all through the hills. Each den has from five to fifteen pups, andthe only difficulty is to know the whereabouts of these family homes.

  One way of finding the dens is to watch from some tall butte for aCoyote carrying food to its brood. As this kind of wolving involved muchlying still, it suited Jake very well. So, equipped with a Broadarrowarrow Horse and the boss's field-glasses, he put in week after week atden-hunting--that is, lying asleep in some possible look-out, with anoccasional glance over the country when it seemed easier to do that thanto lie still.

  The Coyotes had learned to avoid the open. They generally went homewardalong the sheltered hollows; but this was not always possible, and oneday, while exercising his arduous profession in the country west ofChimney Butte, Jake's glasses and glance fell by chance on a dark spotwhich moved along an open hillside. It was grey, and it looked likethis: and even Jake knew that that meant Coyote. If it had been a greyWolf it would have been so: with tail up. A Fox would have looked so:the large ears and tail and the yellow colour would have marked it. Anda Deer would have looked so: That dark shade from the front end meantsomething in his mouth--probably something being carried home--and thatwould mean a den of little ones.

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  He made careful note of the place, and returned there next day to watch,selecting a high butte near where he had seen the Coyote carrying thefood. But all day passed, and he saw nothing. Next day, however, hedescried a dark Coyote, old Saddleback, carrying a large Bird, and bythe help of the glasses he made out that it was a Turkey, and then heknew that the yard at home was quite empty, and he also knew where therest of them had gone, and vowed terrible vengeance when he should findthe den. He followed Saddleback with his eyes as far as possible, andthat was no great way, then went to the place to see if he could trackhim any farther; but he found no guiding signs, and he did not chance onthe little hollow the was the playground of Tito's brood.

  Meanwhile Saddleback came to the little hollow and gave the low callthat always conjured from the earth the unruly procession of the nineriotous little pups, and they dashed at the Turkey and pulled andworried till it wa
s torn up, and each that got a piece ran to one sidealone and silently proceeded to eat, seizing his portion in his jawswhen another came near, and growling his tiny growl as he showed thebrownish whites of his eyes in his effort to watch the intruder. Thosethat got the softer parts to feed on were well fed. But the three thatdid not turned all then energies on the frame of the Gobbler, and overthat there waged a battle royal. This way and that they tugged andtussled, getting off occasional scraps, but really hindering each otherfeeding, till Tito glided in and deftly cut the Turkey into three orfour, when each dashed off with a prize, over which he sat and chewedand smacked his lips and jammed his head down sideways to bring thebackmost teeth to bear, while the baby runt scrambled into the home den,carrying in triumph his share--the Gobbler's grotesque head and neck.

  X.

  Jake felt that he had been grievously wronged, indeed ruined, by thatCoyote that stole his Turkeys. He vowed he would skin them alive when hefound the pups, and took pleasure in thinking about how he would do it.His attempt to follow Saddleback by trailing was a failure, and all hissearching for the den was useless, but he had come prepared for anyemergency. In case he found the den, he had brought a pick and shovel; incase he did not, he had brought a living white Hen.