Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 153: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BILL OF THE ment gave way to disappointment, and a great longing, not unmixed with fear, fear that the master might have gone away. Once before the man had left, without him, visiting a distant settlement; had stayed several days and Bill had experienced all the acute sufferings of a sensitive youngster deprived of its mother for the first time. Finally, he could stand it no longer and after thrice circling the herd, thrice assur- ing himself that all was well, Le rushed down the valley toward the cabin. He came to a sliding stop before the closed door. Cocked his ears inquiringly, listened intently. The man was inside. Asleep. His regular breathing was clearly audible to Bill’s sensitive ears. Reassured, but still vaguely dissatisfied, he trotted slowly back to the herd. As he drew near, his step quickened. The sheep were downwind, still, a sixth sense warned him of danger. A collie would have rushed wildly forward, barking loudly. Bill advanced silently in a wide half circle along the ridge top, belly close hugging the ground, like the wolf. It was old Graybeard, the coyote. Bill drew close without the unwelcome visitor detecting him. The dog did not really think that the coyote would attack the sheep. It was a time of plenty in the wild- erness. Old Graybeard was sleek and well fed. More likely it was just deviltry. Gray- beard could outrun the sheep dog. Well he knew it. Bill knew it too. It was the coyote’s delight to steal upon the unsuspecting sheep, to nip sharply right and left and then to run away, a wraithlike streak into the night; and from a near-by hillock grin down as Bill, with much fran- tic effort, quieted the milling herd. Sometimes Bill took this as a joke. Some- times he went into a rage. Depending up- on his state of mind. To-night—deprived of the softening influence of his frolic with the man—he was angry. Graybeard knew Bill was away and took his time. No sport in a practical joke if the jokee is not there to appreciate it. He nipped tentatively at a gangling white figure that practically fell over him where he crouched in a bed of huckleberry bushes. The lamb, a very young one, WILD STREAK, 305 bawled frantically. The nip had been as nothing at all. Graybeard was surprised. But his surprise was many times multiplied when a ewe, usually the most timid of creatures, charged him wildly, quite disre- garding his menacing front. At the last moment he danced nimbly aside. Unfortunately for all concerned, however, the ewe’s splay foot slid from off a moss-covered bowlder; she lurched side- ways, fell, and in falling, knocked Gray- beard neatly off his feet. With a snarl of rage he sprang forward and buried his yel- low fangs in her throat. At the climax of the tragedy, Bill was no more than a dozen yards away. He lay stretched flat to the ground among some low-lying shrubs. His big body was vi- brant with righteous rage. Still, he did not move. Well he knew that, at his first motion, the coyote would flee. And he might never catch him. Many times he had tried and failed. Graybeard raised his bloodly muzzle and tested the stilly air. It told him nothing. Bill had worked about downwind. The coy- ote was not particularly hungry, but having killed he intended to eat. He worried sav- agely at the dead sheep. Bill stole forward, noiseless as a shadow. ‘The coyote took alarm suddenly. But not quite quickly enough. Even as he sprang away, Bill was upon him. Wily old battler that he was, Graybeard was no match for this hundred pounds of enraged dogflesh. A single flashing down- ward stroke of the wolflike fangs ripped the coyote from shoulder to gullet—and the fight was over. For long the victor crouched over the dead body of the coyote, growling deep in his throat, the light of battle in his eyes. Then the bleating of the sheep roused him to a sense of duty. The herd had scattered in all directions over the hillside. He rounded them up in his usual efficient man- ner, but they refused to be quieted. He threatened them savagely. Even nipped them more severely than usual, but all to no avail. They persisted in stampeding wildly, rushing head on into stumps and bowlders and into each other in their excite- ment, CEOPMICLOOKS (e)