him by the neck and set off, carrying him across country toward the
new den, a couple of miles away. Every little while she had to put her
offspring down to rest and give it a chance to breathe. This made the
moving slow, and the labour of transporting the pups occupied all that
day, for Saddleback was not allowed to carry any of them, probably
because he was too rough. Beginning with the biggest and brightest, they
were carried away one at a time, and late in the afternoon only the runt
was left. Tito had not only worked at digging all night, she had also
trotted over thirty miles, half of it with a heavy baby to carry. But
she did not rest. She was just coming out of the den, carrying her
youngest in her mouth, when over the very edge of this hollow appeared
the mongrel Hound, and a little way behind him Wolver Jake.

Away went Tito, holding the baby tight, and away went the Dog behind
her.

_Bang! bang! bang!_ said the revolver.

But not a shot touched her. Then over the ridge they dashed, where the
revolver could not reach her, and sped across a flat, the tired Coyote
and her baby, and the big fierce Hound behind her, bounding his hardest.
Had she been fresh and unweighted she could soon have left the clumsy
cur that now was barking furiously on her track and rather gaining than
losing in the race. But she put forth all her strength, careered along a
slope, where she gained a little, then down across a brushy flat where
the cruel bushes robbed her of all she had gained. But again into the
open they came, and the wolver, labouring far behind, got sight of them
and fired again and again with his revolver, and only stirred the dust,
but still it made her dodge and lose time, and it also spurred the Dog.
The hunter saw the Coyote, his old acquaintance of the bobtail, carrying