success. She was distant and distrustful. She ate her food and seemed
healthy, but never responded to friendly advances; never [Illustration:
Coyotito, the Captive] even learned to come out of the box when called.
This probably was due to the fact that the kindness of the small
children was offset by the roughness of the men and boys, who did not
hesitate to drag her out by the chain when they wished to see her. On
these occasions she would suffer in silence, playing possum, shamming
dead, for she seemed to know that that was the best thing to do. But as
soon as released she would once more retire into the darkest corner of
her box, and watch her tormentors with eyes that, at the proper angle,
showed a telling glint of green.

[Illustration]

Among the children of the ranchmen was a thirteen-year-old boy.
The fact that he grew up to be like his father, a kind, strong, and
thoughtful man, did not prevent him being, at this age, a shameless
little brute.

Like all boys in that country, he practised lasso-throwing, with a view
to being a cow-boy. Posts and stumps are uninteresting things to catch.
His little brothers and sisters were under special protection of the
Home Government. The Dogs ran far away whenever they saw him coming with
the rope in his hands. So he must needs practise on the unfortunate
Coyotito. She soon learned that her only hope for peace was to hide in
the kennel, or, if thrown at when outside, to dodge the rope by lying as
flat as possible on the ground. Thus Lincoln unwittingly taught the
Coyote the dangers and limitations of a rope, and so he proved a
blessing in disguise--a very perfect disguise. When the Coyote had
thoroughly learned how to baffle the lasso, the boy terror devised a new