They sing it after sundown, when it becomes the rallying cry of their
race and the friendly call to a neighbour; and, they sing it as one boy
in the woods holloas to another to say, "All's well! Here am I. Where
are you?" A form of it they sing to the rising moon, for this is the
time for good hunting to begin. They sing when they see the new camp-
fire, for the same reason that a Dog barks at a stranger. Yet another
weird chant they have for the dawning before they steal quietly away
from the offing of the camp--a wild, weird, squalling refrain: Wow-wow-
wow-wow-wow-w-o-o-o-o-o-o-w. again and again; and doubtless with many
another change that man cannot distinguish any more than the Coyote can
distinguish the words in the cowboy's anathemas.

Tito instinctively uttered her music at the proper times. But sad
experiences had taught her to cut it short and keep it low. Once or
twice she had got a far-away reply from one of her own race, whereupon
she had quickly ceased and timidly quit the neighbourhood.

One day, when on the Upper Garner's Creek, she found the trail where
a piece of meat had been dragged along. It was a singularly inviting
odour, and she followed it, partly out of curiosity. Presently she came
on a piece of the meat itself. She was hungry; she was always hungry
now. It was tempting, and although it had a peculiar odour, she
swallowed it. Within a few minutes she felt a terrific pain. The memory
of the poisoned meat the boy had given her, was fresh. With trembling,
foaming jaws she seized some blades of grass, and her stomach threw off
the meat; but she fell in convulsions on the ground.

The trail of meat dragged along and the poison baits had been laid the
day before by Wolfer Jake. This morning he was riding the drag, and on