Loud and long drawn out was that weird cry of the night. It sent shivers down the spines of Nort and Dick, and they both confessed, afterward, that if they had not been wearing the heavy range hats, supplied them by Bud, that their hair would surely have risen and stood up straight.
Then, as suddenly as it had come to them out of the half darkness, the fiendish noise ceased, dying away in what seemed to be sobbing, insane laughter. With a swallow or two, to wet his parched lips and fear-dried throat, Dick asked in a whisper:
Like an echo came his brother's question:
"It was only a coyote," said the boy from the ranch.
"A _coyote_!" repeated Nort and Dick in unison.
"Yes; you'll see plenty of 'em, and you must have heard of 'em. Little animals, sort of half wolf, half dog. They hang about for something to eat, and they sure can howl!"
"_Howl!_" exclaimed Nort. "If that's a _howl_ I want to know it! Of all the infernal noises----"
"You said it!" exclaimed his brother. "Was that his death cry, Bud? Did Babe shoot one?"
"No, of course not. It isn't as easy to shoot one of the pesky coyotes as you'd think, and it isn't much use. They don't do any particular harm around here. Besides, you didn't hear any shooting; did you?"
Dick was forced to admit that he had not, and he reproved himself for not using his faculties to better advantage. He was beginning to realize that if he was to be a westerner, an outdoor lad and a rancher, he must learn to observe, something that Bud had already acquired in large measure.
"Do they always howl that way?" asked Nort, as he shoved back into his holster the gun he had half drawn again.
"Not always--lots of times it's worse!" chuckled Bud.
"_Worse!_" cried Dick. "I don't see how it could be. What do they do it for?" he asked, as, once again, that strange cry welled forth on the night.
"Oh, just to keep each other company, I reckon," answered Bud. "Same as dogs bark. This may be a lone coyote calling to his mate; or he may be summoning the pack to feed on a dead calf, or something like that. I reckon they always howl pretty free on moonlight nights. We're used to 'em."
"Don't believe I'd get used to that if I lived here a hundred years," commented Dick, as, for the third time, the cry rose and fell, even louder and more horrible than before.