ll you," said I to Lucien, who seemed as bold as
possible.

"You take the dog-wolf," cried Sumichrast to me; "but we won't provoke
the contest."

Seeing us evince no fear, the brutes suddenly made off. Sumichrast
descended to the bottom of the ravine, and then called me. I noticed
among the high grass the entrance of a burrow strewed with whitened
bones. Two yards farther on I saw the head of one of the animals, with
eyes glittering like a cat's, glaring out of the entrance of another
burrow. I threw a stone at the beast, which, far from showing any fear,
curled up its lips and showed us a very perfect set of teeth.

[Illustration: "I threw a stone at the beast."]

As it was by no means our intention to make war upon wolves, I returned
to the plain with Lucien, who had shown no ordinary coolness. I was
glad of it, for my great wish was to inure him to danger, and I feared
the Indian's misadventure with the otter might have had a bad influence.

"Didn't those wolves frighten you?" asked my friend of the boy.

"A little--especially their eyes, which seemed to dart fire."

"And what should you have done if they had sprung at us?"

"I should have aimed at them as straight as I could; but wolves are much
braver than I thought."

"They were anxious to protect their young ones, and their den being so
near made them all the bolder."

When l'Encuerado heard that we had _coyotes_ near us, he made up a
second fire for the night. The eastern sky was beginning to grow pale,
and as we were supping we saw the paroquets in couples flying over our
heads towards the forest. Humming-birds were flitting in every
direction, and flocks of other passerines flew from one bush to another.
When they offered to perch near our bivouac, l'Encuerado requested them
in polite terms to settle a little farther away, and, on their refusal,
urged his request by throwing a stone at them, which but rarely failed
in its purpose. The sun set, and the mountains stood out in black relief
against the pink sky.

The moon now rose, and I can hardly describe the marvellous effects of
light produced by its rays on the sierras. L'Encuerado had made a second
fire, and had taken Gringalet aside to insist upon his not roaming
beyond the ground illuminated by its flame, telling him that the
_coyotes_, which would doubtless pass the night in prowling round our
bivouac, were very fond of dogs' flesh. As if to add weight to this
prudent advice, a prolonged howl