coyote."

Clarence blushed. It wasn't the first time the pioneer's daughter had
shown her superior knowledge. He said quickly, to hide his discomfiture,
"I'll ketch him, any way; he's nothin' mor'n a ki yi."

"Ye can't, tho," said Susy, shaking her sun-bonnet. "He's faster nor a
hoss!"

Nevertheless, Clarence ran towards him, followed by Susy. When they had
come within twenty feet of him, the lazy creature, without apparently
the least effort, took two or three limping bounds to one side, and
remained at the same distance as before. They repeated this onset three
or four times with more or less excitement and hilarity, the animal
evading them to one side, but never actually retreating before them.
Finally, it occurred to them both that although they were not catching
him they were not driving him away. The consequences of that thought
were put into shape by Susy with round-eyed significance.

"Kla'uns, he bites."

Clarence picked up a hard sun-baked clod, and, running forward, threw
it at the coyote. It was a clever shot, and struck him on his slouching
haunches. He snapped and gave a short snarling yelp, and vanished.
Clarence returned with a victorious air to his companion. But she was
gazing intently in the opposite direction, and for the first time he
discovered that the coyote had been leading them half round a circle.

"Kla'uns," said Susy, with a hysterical little laugh.