ne must remember that he is simply a
wild dog, getting his living by his wits, and saving his life by the
tireless serviceability of his legs; so has developed both these gifts
to an admirable pitch of perfection. He is blessed further with a gift
of music and a sense of humour.

When I lived at Yancey's, on the Yellowstone, in 1897, I had a good
example of the latter, and had it daily for a time. The dog attached to
the camp on the inner circle was a conceited, irrepressible little puppy
named Chink. He was so full of energy, enthusiasm, and courage that
there was no room left in him for dog-sense. But it came after a vast
number of humiliating experiences.

[Illustration]

A Coyote also had attached himself to the camp, but on the outer circle.
At first he came out by night to feed on the garbage pile, but realizing
the peace of the Park he became bolder and called occasionally by day.
Later he was there every day, and was often seen sitting on a ridge a
couple of hundred yards away.

[Illustration: II. Chink's adventures with the Coyote and the Picket-pin
_Sketches by E. T. Seton_]

[Illustration: IV. (a) The Whistler watching me from the rocks.
_Photo by E. T. Seton_
(b) A young Whistler
_Photo by G. G. Seton_]

One day he was sitting much nearer and grinning in Coyote fashion, when
one of the campers in a spirit of mischief said to the dog, "Chink, you
see that Coyote out there grinning at you. Go and chase him out of
that."

Burning to distinguish himself, that pup set off at full speed, and
every time he struck the ground he let off a war-whoop. Away went the
Coyote and it looked like a good race to us, and to the Picket-pin
Ground-squirrels that sat up high on their mounds to rejoice in the
spectacle of these, their enemies, warring against each other.

The Coyote has a way of slouching along, his tail dangling and tangling
with his legs, and his legs loose-jointed, mixing with his tail. He
doesn't seem to work hard but oh! how he does cover the prairie! And
very soon it was clear that in spite of his magnificent bounds and
whoops of glory, Chink was losing ground. A little later the Coyote
obviously had to slack up to keep from running away altogether. It had
seemed a good race for a quarter of a mile, but it was nothing to the
race which began when the Coyote turned on Chink. Uttering a gurgling
growl, a bark, and a couple of screeches, he closed in with all the
combined fury of conscious might and