op of his head merely, with his eyes on bumps, much like those
of a hippopotamus, prominent and peculiarly suited for this observation
work from below, as they are the first things above ground. After a
brief inspection, if all be quiet, he comes out an inch more. Now he can
look around, the coast is clear, so he sits up on the mound and scans
his surroundings.

[Illustration]

Yes! Ho! Ho! he sees his enemy, that hated Coyote, strolling away off
beyond the possibility of doing harm. His confidence is fully restored
as the Coyote gets smaller in the distance and the other Prairie-dogs
coming out seem to endorse his decision and give him renewed confidence.
After one or two false starts, he sets off to feed. This means go ten or
twenty feet from the door of his den, for all the grass is eaten off
near home.

[Illustration]

Among the herbage he sits up high to take a final look around, then
burying his nose in the fodder, he begins his meal. This is the chance
that the waiting, watching, she-Coyote counted on. There is a flash of
gray fur from behind that little grease bush; in three hops she is upon
him. He takes alarm at the first sound and tries to reach the haven
hole, but she snaps him up. With a shake she ends his troubles. He
hardly knows the pain of death, then she bounds away on her back track
to the home den on the distant hillside. She does not come near it
openly and rashly. There is always the possibility of such an approach
betraying the family to some strong enemy on watch. She circles around a
little, scrutinizes the landscape, studies the tracks and the wind, then
comes to the door by more or less devious hidden ways. The sound of a
foot outside is enough to make the little ones cower in absolute
silence, but mother reassures them with a whining call much like that of
a dog mother. They rush out, tumbling over each other in their glee, six
or seven in number usually, but sometimes as high as ten or twelve.
Eagerly they come, and that fat Prairie-dog lasts perhaps three minutes,
at the end of which time nothing is left but the larger bones with a
little Coyote busy polishing each of them. Strewn about the door of the
den are many other kindred souvenirs, the bones of Ground-squirrels,
Chipmunks, Rabbits, Grouse, Sheep, and Fawns, with many kinds of
feathers, fur, and hair, to show the great diversity of Coyote diet.

[Illustration]

THE COYOTE'S SENSE OF HUMOUR

To understand the Coyote fully o