ing as long a halter as possible. Slipping the pack
from the pony was an easier task than the getting it back again was
likely to prove. Next I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded
the Winchester. My revolver was already loaded, and hung on my belt.
Remembering Dick's letters about the bears and mountain-lions in
Penetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort out of my weapons. Then
I built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I scraped up a mass of
pine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal with such a sense
of strange enjoyment.

But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered,
my mind began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the
twilight seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the
hollow? While I gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came
suddenly. My campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand
the flickering gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up
the straight tree trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps
of the grazing mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then
a low moaning from a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea
what it was, but presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines.
It bore no resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the
woods. It would murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it
would cease for a little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to
die away again. But it rose steadily, with shorter intervals of silence,
until the intermittent gusts swept through the tree-tops with a rushing
roar. I had listened to the crash of the ocean surf, and the resemblance
was a striking one.

Listening to this mournful wind with all my ears I was the better
prepared for any lonesome cries of the forest; nevertheless, a sudden,
sharp "Ki-yi-i!" seemingly right at my back, gave me a fright that sent
my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

Fumbling at the hammer of my rifle, I peered into the black-streaked
gloom of the forest. The crackling of dry twigs brought me to my feet.
At the same moment the mustangs snorted. Something was prowling about
just beyond the light. I thought of a panther. That was the only beast I
could think of which had such an unearthly cry.

Then another bowl, resembling that of a dog, and followed by yelps and
barks, told me that I was being visited by a pack of coyotes. I spent
the good part of an hour liste