CHAPTER VII
INTO THE WILDERNESS
FOR several days we marched steadily northward over a rolling country, camping at first upon streams which flowed south-westward to the Great Salt Lake, and latterly upon others which took a northerly course to join the turbulent Snake, the great southern branch of the Columbia. During this time, Percy and I, by systematic practice, became fairly expert in the art of packing; Percy, too, having developed unsuspected gifts as a cook, was unanimously elected to fill that responsible position, while I, having no genius for anything in particular, was allotted the more humble office of dish-washer.
Whenever occasion permitted—while Percy was cooking and Jack chopping wood, perhaps—I would take the little single-barrelled shotgun and wander up the stream to try for some ducks, or over the hills in the hope of stirring up a jack-rabbit or a sage-hen. Many a supper did Ulysses and I and the shotgun procure between us; but as yet we had had little use for our rifles; excepting one antelope which Percy and I had blazed at and missed, we had seen no large game, unless the occasional wolf and the frequent coyote be counted as such.
What astute vagabonds are those coyotes, the street-arabs of the wilderness, their wits sharpened by the unceasing competition for a livelihood with their hungry relations, and with all the other carnivorous beasts of the field,—to say nothing of several of the birds of the air! With what persistency would they sit around our camp-fire at night and serenade us with their doleful howlings, and how silently would they glide away into the darkness when the indignant Ulysses rushed forth to devour them!
Ulysses, having been brought up in a town, was as yet unacquainted with the wiles of those “subterfugious beasts,” as Percy called them, and great store of breath and energy did he expend in frantic efforts to catch one, until, learning by experience the futility of such a course, he contented himself with bestowing upon them a contemptuous glance when they trotted across our path, and, at a distance of twenty yards, impudently stood still to watch us go by.
The coyote is generally spoken of with disrespect as a cowardly, sneaking outcast, a lean and draggle-tailed caricature of his big cousin, the wolf. But, for my part, I confess I rather like him. His big ears, and his sharp, inquisitive nose, make him the most wide-awake-looking animal I know; while, as for activity, not even the antelope is more light-footed. His valour, I admit, is leavened by a large measure of discretion. He will run away, as a rule, from any dog that is more than half as big as himself. But get him into a corner where he has no chance to run farther, and it will be a bold dog that will venture within range of his snapping jaws.
That the coyote possesses good reasoning powers no one who is familiar with him will deny. He is aware, for instance, of the custom of the jack-rabbit to run in a circle when pursued, and on one occasion I saw him take advantage of that knowledge, to the disgust of our honest friend Ulysses. We were encamped on an open plain, and Ulysses, going off on a private hunt, put up a “jack,” which he pursued with vociferous impetuosity. As I stood watching the chase, I observed a coyote come running toward the spot and take up a position on a little hillock, where he sat down to watch also. The rabbit, as usual, made a large circuit, and as he came back to the starting-point, with Ulysses, breathless but still hopeful, a hundred yards behind, the coyote rushed down from his perch, snapped up the rabbit, and ran off with it, leaving Ulysses seated on the ground, his long, red tongue hanging out, thinking—I have no doubt—uncomplimentary thoughts of the thieving vagrant who had defrauded him of his dinner.
It was about the end of the second week of our journey that we came suddenly upon a swift, muddy river running in a rocky channel sunk deep below the level of the plain—the Snake.
Although it was yet early in the afternoon, we went into camp at once in a fine grove of cottonwoods and willows fringing the banks of a little branch stream which there ran down to the river, and here Jack, taking from his pocket a large map, spread it upon the ground and issued a summons for an immediate council of war.