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 listening to their serenade. The wild, mournful notes
sent quivers up my back. By-and-by they went away, and as my fire had
burned down to a red glow and the night wind had grown cold I began to
think of sleep.