l of weird yells that were like the
cries of a laughing hyena, mingled with the sardonic wails of a baboon.

CHAPTER VIII

"THE PROFESSOR!"

Loud and long drawn out was that weird cry of the night. It sent
shivers down the spines of Nort and Dick, and they both confessed,
afterward, that if they had not been wearing the heavy range hats,
supplied them by Bud, that their hair would surely have risen and stood
up straight.

Then, as suddenly as it had come to them out of the half darkness, the
fiendish noise ceased, dying away in what seemed to be sobbing, insane
laughter. With a swallow or two, to wet his parched lips and
fear-dried throat, Dick asked in a whisper:

"What--what was that?"

Like an echo came his brother's question:

"Was somebody killed?"

Bud's hearty laugh relieved the tension.

"It was only a coyote," said the boy from the ranch.

"A _coyote_!" repeated Nort and Dick in unison.

"Yes; you'll see plenty of 'em, and you must have heard of 'em. Little
animals, sort of half wolf, half dog. They hang about for something to
eat, and they sure can howl!"

"_Howl!_" exclaimed Nort. "If that's a _howl_ I want to know it! Of
all the infernal noises----"

"You said it!" exclaimed his brother. "Was that his death cry, Bud?
Did Babe shoot one?"

"No, of course not. It isn't as easy to shoot one of the pesky coyotes
as you'd think, and it isn't much use. They don't do any particular
harm around here. Besides, you didn't hear any shooting; did you?"

Dick was forced to admit that he had not, and he reproved himself for
not using his faculties to better advantage. He was beginning to
realize that if he was to be a westerner, an outdoor lad and a rancher,
he must learn to observe, something that Bud had already acquired in
large measure.

"Do they always howl that way?" asked Nort, as he shoved back into his
holster the gun he had half drawn again.

"Not always--lots of times it's worse!" chuckled Bud.

"_Worse!_" cried Dick. "I don't see how it could be. What do they do
it for?" he asked, as, once again, that strange cry welled forth on the
night.

"Oh, just to keep each other company, I reckon," answered Bud. "Same
as dogs bark. This may be a lone coyote calling to his mate; or he may
be summoning the pack to feed on a dead calf, or something like that.
I reckon they always howl pretty free on moonlight nights. We're used
to 'em."

"Don't believe I'd get used to that