s were very apt to bolt by the back door,
and thus give the Coyote an excellent chance for a cheap dinner.

So the Coyote acquired the habit of following the hard-working Badger.
At first, no doubt, the latter resented the parasite that dogged his
steps, but becoming used to it "first endured, then pitied, then
embraced", or, to put it more mildly, he got accustomed to the Coyote's
presence, and being of a kindly disposition, forgot his enmity and
thenceforth they contentedly lived their lives together. I do not know
that they inhabited the same den. Yet that would not be impossible,
since similar things are reported of the British Badger and the Fox.

More than one observer has seen a Badger and a Coyote travelling
together, sometimes one leading, sometimes the other. Evidently it was a
partnership founded on good-will, however it may have been begun.

THE STORY OF THE KINDLY BADGER

But the most interesting case, and one which I might hesitate to
reproduce but for the witnesses, reached me at Winnipeg.

[Illustration]

In 1871 there was a family named Service living at Bird's Hill, on the
prairie north of Winnipeg. They had one child, a seven-year-old boy
named Harry. He was a strange child, very small for his age, and shy
without being cowardly. He had an odd habit of following dogs, chickens,
pigs, and birds, imitating their voices and actions, with an exactness
that onlookers sometimes declared to be uncanny. One day he had gone
quietly after a Prairie Chicken that kept moving away from him without
taking flight, clucking when she clucked, and nodding his head or
shaking his "wings" when she did. So he wandered on and on, till the
house was hidden from view behind the trees that fringed the river, and
the child was completely lost.

There was nothing remarkable in his being away for several hours, but a
heavy thunderstorm coming up that afternoon called attention to the fact
that the boy was missing, and when the first casual glance did not
discover him it became serious and a careful search was begun.

Father and mother, with the near neighbours, scoured the prairie till
dark, and began the next day at dawn, riding in all directions, calling,
and looking for signs. After a day or two the neighbours gave it up,
believing that the child was drowned and carried away by the river. But
the parents continued their search even long after all hope seemed
dead. And there was no hour of the day when that stricken