heir houses
scamper back as fast as their legs will carry them, and concealing all
but their heads and tails, utter loud barks at the intruder. This done,
the greater number dive out of sight with a curious somersault, their
little tails whisking in the air. The chief dog, and perhaps two or
three other sentinels with him, remain on the tops of their houses
barking lustily till the enemy gets within a few paces of them, when
they also disappear, and the town remains silent and deserted. The
traveller who wishes to observe their habits, by lying concealed and
silent for a few minutes, may see after a time some little fellow pop
his head out of his house, when he gives a few barks. It serves as a
signal to the rest that danger has disappeared, and immediately the
others emerge from their houses and begin to frisk about as usual.

The holes of these curious creatures are shared by two very different
species of guests, one of which, at all events, must prove most,
unwelcome. One of these is a little owl, which may be seen sitting in
front of the burrows or flying about near the ground; or, when the sun
sinks low, hopping through the town, and picking up the lizards and
chameleons which everywhere abound. He can apparently do no harm to the
inhabitants, if he fails to benefit them. The other inmates are
rattlesnakes, who, regardless of any objections which may be raised by
the dogs, take possession of their holes, and when the sun shines lie
coiled up at their sides, now and then erecting their treacherous heads
and rattling an angry note of warning, should a thoughtless pup by any
chance approach too near. The Indians suppose that all three creatures
live on the most friendly footing; but as the rattlesnakes when killed
have frequently been found with the bodies of the little prairie-dogs in
their insides, their object in establishing themselves in the locality
seems very evident.

The poor little dog, indeed, leads a life of constant alarm, with
numerous enemies ever on the watch to surprise him. Hawks and eagles,
hovering high in air, often pounce down and carry off unfortunate
members of the community in their powerful talons. The savage cayote,
or prairie-wolf, when pressed by hunger during the winter, frequently
attacks the dome-shaped habitation of the little animal, and with claws
and teeth tears to pieces the walls, plunging his nose into the passage
which he has opened, and working his way down till he s