Unerringly the fatal shaft flew, struck the coyote back of the ear and
laid him low without a quiver.
Mad with unexpected triumph, our archer dragged his slain victim back
to the car to meet the jeering company, and confounded them with his
success. Loud were the shouts of joy; a war dance ensued to celebrate
the great event. When done the merry party cranked up the machine and
sped on its fragrant way, a happier and a more enlightened bevy of
children.
Thus is shown the danger of utter innocence.
These chance meetings seem rather unlucky for coyotes. Frank Ferguson,
when trapping in the foothills of the Sierras, repeatedly had his traps
robbed by an impudent member of the wolf family. One day while making
his regular rounds and approaching a set, he saw in the distance a
coyote run off with the catch of his trap. Seeing that the wolf turned
up a branch creek, Ferguson cut across the intervening neck of the
woods to intercept him if possible. He reached the stream bottom at the
moment the coyote came trotting past. Having a blunt arrow on the
bowstring, he shot across the twenty-five yards of bank, and quite
unexpectedly cracked the animal on the foreleg, breaking the bone.
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