t was high time, for the coyote had pinned the terrier down, and
there was barely opportunity to pitch up the gun and take a snapshot at
its shoulder before my pet's struggles would have ended.

Then I ran in through the smoke to find that the wounded beast still held
the hapless dog, and as the other barrel was empty I swung the butt aloft
and brought it down crashing on its head. However, the coyote was not
quite vanquished yet, for I felt its teeth almost meet in my leg, and I
stumbled head foremost over it, after which for a few moments there was a
mixed-up scuffle, until with one hand closing on the hairy throat I got
another chance to bring down the gun-butt. Then the beast lay still,
flecked all over with blood and foam, while my hands and clothes were
torn, and there were crimson patches about me. Grip whined and licked my
bleeding fingers when I lifted all that seemed left of him, and he
presented a sorry spectacle. Nevertheless, for some curious reason that
struggle had done me good, and, carrying the dog, I limped home with a
wound in my leg, considerably more cheerful than when I started out. I
even laughed as Harry, meeting me in the doorway, said, "Good heavens,
Ralph, what have you been doing? You look like a butcher."

"It's a case of inherent savagery, a return to the instincts of barbaric
days," I answered. "I've been killing a coyote with my hands, and I feel
better for it. But don't ask questions; I'm almost famished."

We fared well that evening, for there was no need of hurry now, and when
the meal was over we sat talking long in the little room. Already the
nights were closing in and the coolness outside invigorated like wine, but
we felt that the sight of the blighted wheat would not improve our
spirits. So I stated my views as clearly as I could, ending with forced
cheerfulness, though I meant every syllable of it:

"We are not beaten yet, and if we must go under we'll make at least
another tough fight of it."

Meanwhile Harry covered several sheets of paper with figures.

"You are perfectly right," he said at last. "The homestead, stock, and
implements will have to go; but I think we'll ask our largest creditors to
give us time while we see what we can do at the track-grading. It's
possible, but not likely, that we might earn enough to make some
arrangement to commence again. However, to consider the probable, there'll
be a meeting of creditors, and perhaps enough after the sale to buy us a