“Good-by, and good luck!” called Roger after him, as he stepped forward to knock one of the wounded wolves on the head with his hatchet, so as to recover his two arrows.
Under ordinary circumstances the boys would gladly have halted to remove the skins of the wolves that had fallen, where the antlers of the stag had not ruined the pelts; but just now they could not think of such a thing. Their horses had all they could safely carry, and it would be the height of folly to think of increasing the load.
Although these lads had done considerable hunting during the last five or six years this happened to be the first time they had ever been given a chance to witness one of those forest battles which took place so often. True, once they had found the skeletons of two deer in the woods, and from the fact that their antlers were interlocked tightly, so that they could not possibly be pulled apart, it was evident that in a fight the bucks had become so attached to each other in this way that they could not separate, and that consequently they had starved in the midst of plenty, falling victims to their own passions.
On other occasions, when their journey led them through the vast prairies, other matters engaged their attention. Of course they had to make camp where night found them; and often it was far out on the billowy sea of grass, where they built their small fire in a hole dug in the ground, and spent the night in watchfulness and security.
But sometimes these nights were not as quiet and peaceful as they could wish. Until recently neither of the boys had seen a cowardly coyote; but often these scavengers of the plains seemed to scent the fresh meat which the boys had with them; and, taking up positions a short distance from the camp, they would make night hideous with their yelping.
After the boys had become accustomed to this discordant chorus they minded it very little. Had it been wolves they would have kept constantly on the alert lest the treacherous beasts pull down one of the horses; but these thieving coyotes did not have the courage to attempt such a bold deed, and could only hang around, watching for a chance to steal something when no one was looking. They might be called the sneak-thieves of the plains, while the gray wolf might be likened to the dashing pirate—bold, aggressive, and sometimes undaunted.
There was one night when these beggarly coyotes seemed to be more persistent than ever. Roger remarked that they came in closer, and several times he looked as though he would like nothing better than to go out and try to “pot” a few by means of his ever-ready bow.
However, Dick thought the animals hardly worth noticing, since their cowardly traits made them afraid to venture close enough to steal anything.
Of course he raised no objections when his companion declared he meant to set a trap, and teach at least one sneaking coyote a lesson. Roger was a clever hand at all sorts of snares and liked nothing better than laying one, whereby he might match his wits against those of a cunning beast.
So, taking his hatchet, and some bits of wood which they had brought along in case of need in cooking supper, he began pounding these down into the soft ground. In this way he constructed what seemed to be an avenue, about a foot broad, leading up to the place where he expected to place the bait of his gun-trap.