the two coyotes that there was a strain of
their own scent mingled with that of the wolf. They grew bolder and
stalked stiffly about him, appraising his qualities with eye and nose.
When Breed returned to the feed they followed a few steps behind. At
first they kept the body of the steer between them, then lost all
restraint and accepted Breed as a brother coyote from whom they had
nothing to fear.

An hour before dawn Breed left the spot and traveled back to the edge of
the hills where he bedded for the day. He was full fed and satisfied
with life. It was not until night closed down about him that he was
conscious of the single flaw in his content, the one thing lacking to
complete it all. Breed loosed the hunting cry but there was no answering
call. He tried again without success. When with the wolves he had longed
for the smell of the sage, the scent that spoke of home to him, and the
mocking voices of the coyotes. Now that he had all these he missed the
muster cry of the pack, hungered to hear the aching wails coming from
far across the timbered hills, penetrating to the farthest retreats of
the antlered tribes and sounding a warning to all living things that the
hunt-pack was about to take the meat trail. But he knew that coyotes did
not hunt in packs; that they hunted singly or in pairs, killing more by
stealth than strength; clever stalkers and the most intelligent
team-workers and relayers in the world, but lacking the weight and
driving force to tear down a steer,--calves their largest prey.

Breed howled again and started on the hunt alone. Even then, though he
did not know it, his pack was gathering to him. The two wise old coyotes
who had fed with him the night before knew that wherever they found the
big breed-wolf, there they would also find meat. They had started up at
his first call and Peg was coming swiftly from the south, Cripp from the
west. Breed had not traveled far before he was aware that other hunters
were abroad and running with him, swinging wide on either flank. Here
was his pack! At first he was not sure, but whenever he wheeled or
veered from his course the two coyotes altered their routes to accord
with his. He ran on for miles, thrilled with the knowledge that his
queer pack followed loyally where he led, and when at last he singled
out a steer the two veteran coyotes angled swiftly in and ran but a few
yards on either side of him.

Then Breed sounded the meat call,--and two jeering coy