importance as the animal ages.

The weakness of the first is its fixity; it cannot change to meet
quickly changing conditions. The weakness of the second is the animal's
inability freely to exchange ideas by language. The weakness of the
third is the danger in acquiring it. But the three together are a strong
arch.

Now, Tito was in a new case. Perhaps never before had a Coyote faced
life with unusual advantages in the third kind of knowledge, none
at all in the second, and with the first dormant. She travelled rapidly
away from the ranchmen, keeping out of sight, and sitting down once in a
while to lick her wounded tail-stump. She came at last to a Prairie-dog
town. Many of the inhabitants were out, and they barked at the intruder,
but all dodged down as soon as she came near. Her instinct taught her
to try and catch one, but she ran about in vain for some time, and then
gave it up. She would have gone hungry that night but that she found a
couple of Mice in the long grass by the river. Her mother had not taught
her to hunt, but her instinct did, and the accident that she had an
unusual brain made her profit very quickly by her experience.

In the days that followed she quickly learned how to make a living;
for Mice, Ground Squirrels, Prairie-dogs, Rabbits, and Lizards were
abundant, and many of these could be captured in open chase. But open
chase, and sneaking as near as possible before beginning the open chase,
lead naturally to stalking for a final spring. And before the moon had
changed the Coyote had learned how to make a comfortable living.

Once or twice she saw the men with the Greyhounds coming her way. Most
Coyotes would, perhaps, have barked in bravado, or would have gone up to