"It was really a capital dinner."
A dismal howling from our four-footed companion woke us up with a start. We seized our arms. The dog, with his ears laid back, his tail between his legs, turned his nose to the wind with an anxious glance, and set up a fresh howl, which was answered by the shrill prolonged cries of the coyotas, or jackal of Mexico.
"So these miserable brutes think they are going to frighten us?" cried l'Encuerado.
And while we were making up the fire, the Indian rushed off into the darkness.
"Are they wolves, M. Sumichrast?" asked Lucien, anxiously.
"Yes, my boy, but only prairie wolves," he answered.
"Do you think that they will first devour l'Encuerado, and then attack us?"
"You needn't be frightened; courage is not one of their virtues. Unless they were starving, they wouldn't venture near us."
All at once we heard a shot. The whole forest seemed in movement; the cries of the birds resounded through the trees, and the echoes repeated the noise of the report. Gringalet barked loudly, and was again answered by the harsh cry of the coyotas. At length the silence, which for a short time had been disturbed, was once more restored, and the forest resumed its solemn stillness.