ense
alert to detect the approach of the big gray killers, and he fully
expected the steer to break into full flight at the first warning of his
presence. He had almost forgotten the stupidity of the cows on the open
range and the ease with which he had torn them down when hunting them
with his wolf father long before. He made his final rush and drove his
teeth deep into one hind leg before his prey had even quickened his
gait. The steer lurched into an awkward gallop and bawled with fright as
the savage teeth cut through muscles and hide. Breed lunged for the same
spot again; once more and the leg was useless, the hamstrings cut, and
it sagged loosely with every step. He slashed at the other leg. Within a
hundred yards of the start the steer pitched down, bracing his foreparts
off the ground with his two front feet, and even as he fell the yellow
wolf drove for his throat.

Then Breed circled his kill, looking off in all directions to make sure
that there was no route by which men might approach unseen. He stretched
forth his head and cupped his lips as he sent his tribal call rolling
across the range, the message that here was meat for all of his kind who
would come and feed. A score of coyote voices answered from far and
near.

Collins heard the dread cry and knew that the wolf had made a kill. He
knew too that whenever the wolf note was heard, all other sounds were
stilled as if every living creature expected to hear an answering cry
and waited for it to come before resuming their own communications. The
fact that the coyotes answered the cry assured Collins that it was the
breed-wolf that had howled; that coyote ears had read a note of their
own kind in the sound, a note which even his experienced ears could not
detect.

The yellow wolf tore at the warm meat and waited,--waited for his coyote
kinsmen to join him at the feast. He howled again and they answered,
reading invitation to coyote as well as to wolf in the sound, but they
would not come in. An old dog coyote trotted up and down the crest of a
slight rise of ground two hundred yards downwind. Another joined him,
then a third, and in less than an hour there was a half score of coyotes
circling the spot. Breed could see dim shapes moving across the open
places and padding on silent feet over the cow trails that threaded the
sage. Surely they would come in. The shadowy forms were restless, never
still, and prowled round and round him, but they would not join