g in upon him in narrower and narrower
circles, hemming him in with a roar of sound.

He did not know what the chorus meant, nor what wild impulse urged the
coyotes to sing. Nor could he tell why he himself should feel so
strangely a part of it all. In the moonlight everything was very clear.
For prairie eyes, it was not likely to make mistakes as to what one saw.
Yet suddenly Dusty Star stared as if his eyes were starting out of his
head.

Right in front of him, with its back to the moon, a great form, larger
than a coyote, seemed to have risen out of the ground. As he looked, the
creature, lifting its head, let out a long melancholy howl.

Dusty Star held his breath. _Could_ it be?--was it _possible_?--_Kiopo
at last?_

He was too excited to wait in order to be sure. Springing to his feet,
he darted forward with a cry.

The wolf leaped swiftly aside, and was gone.

The creature's disappearance seemed a signal. There was a general
movement on the butte. The next moment dusky bodies melted soundlessly
down its furrows into the grey vastness of the prairies, and Dusty Star
found himself alone.

He was bitterly disappointed. Now, when it was too late, he knew that he
done the wrong thing. All his wisdom of prairie-craft and wood-craft had
left him in one fatal moment: he had moved at the very instant when he
should have remained still. Now he would never know if he had been face
to face with Kiopo or not. A sob rose in his throat; a mist swam over
the moon: he could hardly see for tears, as he went recklessly down the
hill.

CHAPTER VIII

HOW KIOPO CAME BACK

One night, when all the camp was in deep sleep, and nothing could be
heard but the gentle flapping of the lodge-ears in the breeze, or the
occasional bark of a hunting coyote, Dusty Star woke suddenly.

What was it? He raised himself on his elbow, and peered about in the
glimmer of the dying fire. The tepee was full of shapes of things that
were somehow stranger than the things themselves. There were dark,
heaped-up objects which made companionable sounds in their noses, and
could be explained. But there were others which did not explain
themselves, that made no sound at all. Dusty Star looked at them
suspiciously in case they might have moved.

As he looked, and listened, there came from the direction of Look-out
Bluff a long-drawn, ringing, call. It was no coyote voice. It was
deeper, more resonant in tone. Some peculiar quality in it thrill