By and by the camp tasks of the men appeared to be ended, and all

gathered near the fire to lounge and smoke and talk. Glenn and Hutter

engaged in interested conversation with two Mexicans, evidently sheep

herders. If the wind and cold had not made Carley so uncomfortable she

might have found the scene picturesque. How black the night! She could

scarcely distinguish the sky at all. The cedar branches swished in

the wind, and from the gloom came a low sound of waves lapping a rocky

shore. Presently Glenn held up a hand.

"Listen, Carley!" he said.

Then she heard strange wild yelps, staccato, piercing, somehow

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infinitely lonely. They made her shudder.

"Coyotes," said Glenn. "You'll come to love that chorus. Hear the dogs

bark back."

Carley listened with interest, but she was inclined to doubt that she

would ever become enamoured of such wild cries.

"Do coyotes come near camp?" she queried.

"Shore. Sometimes they pull your pillow out from under your head,"

replied Flo, laconically.

Carley did not ask any more questions. Natural history was not her

favorite study and she was sure she could dispense with any first-hand

knowledge of desert beasts. She thought, however, she heard one of

the men say, "Big varmint prowlin' round the sheep." To which Hutter

replied, "Reckon it was a bear." And Glenn said, "I saw his fresh track

by the lake. Some bear!"

The heat from the fire made Carley so drowsy that she could scarcely

hold up her head. She longed for bed even if it was out there in the

open. Presently Flo called her: "Come. Let's walk a little before

turning in."

So Carley permitted herself to be led to and fro down an open aisle

between some cedars. The far end of that aisle, dark, gloomy, with the

bushy secretive cedars all around, caused Carley apprehension she was

ashamed to admit. Flo talked eloquently about the joys of camp life, and

how the harder any outdoor task was and the more endurance and pain it

required, the more pride and pleasure one had in remembering it. Carley

was weighing the import of these words when suddenly Flo clutched her

arm. "What's that?" she whispered, tensely.

Carley stood stockstill. They had reached the furthermost end of that

aisle, but had turned to go back. The flare of the camp fire threw a wan

light into the shadows before them. There came a rustling in the brush,

a snapping of twigs. Cold tremors chased up and down Carley's back.




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