CHAPTER X
A COYOTE SERENADE
The roads were bad enough. They were especially bad west of Williams.Just now an association of automobile tourists has been formed tocreate a boulevard route through from the Atlantic to the Pacificcoast, but at the time of this story no attention had been given theroads of the far West and only the paths of the rancheros from town totown served as guides. On leaving Williams they turned south so as toavoid the more severe mountain roads, and a fine run through a ratheruninteresting country brought them to Prescott on the eve of thesecond day after leaving the Canyon. Here they decided to take a day'srest, as it was Sunday and the hotel was comfortable; but Mondaymorning they renewed their journey and headed southwesterly across thealkali plains--called "mesa"--for Parker, on the boundary line betweenArizona and California.
Towns of any sort were very scarce in this section and the country waswild and often barren of vegetation for long stretches. There weresome extensive ranches, however, as this is the section favored forsettlement by a class of Englishmen called "remittance men." These aremostly the "black sheep" or outcasts of titled families, who havinggot into trouble of some sort at home, are sent to America to isolatethemselves on western ranches, where they receive monthly or quarterlyremittances of money to support them. The remittance men are poorfarmers, as a rule. They are idle and lazy except when it comes toriding, hunting and similar sports. Their greatest industry is cattleraising, yet these foreign born "cowboys" constitute an entirelydifferent class from those of American extraction, found in Texas andon the plains of the Central West. They are educated and to an extentcultured, being "gentlemen born" but sad backsliders in the practiseof the profession. Because other ranchers hesitate to associate withthem they congregate in settlements of their own, and here in Arizona,on the banks of the Bill Williams Branch of the Colorado River, theyform almost the total population.
Our friends had hoped to make the little town of Gerton for the night,but the road was so bad that Wampus was obliged to drive slowly andcarefully, and so could not make very good time. Accidents beganto happen, too, doubtless clue to the hard usage the machine hadreceived. First a spring broke, and Wampus was obliged to halt longenough to clamp it together with stout steel braces. An hour later thefront tire was punctured by cactus spines, which were thick upon theroad. Such delays seriously interfered with their day's mileage.
Toward sunset Uncle John figured, from the information he had receivedat Prescott, that they were yet thirty miles from Gerton, and so hedecided to halt and make camp while there was yet sufficient daylightremaining to do so conveniently.
"We might hunt for a ranch house and beg for shelter," said he, "butfrom the stories I've heard of the remittance men I am sure we willenjoy ourselves better if we rely entirely upon our own resources."
The girls were, of course, delighted at the prospect of such anexperience, for the silent, solitary mesa made them feel they wereindeed "in the wilds of the Great American Desert." The afternoon hadbeen hot and the ride dusty, but there was now a cooler feeling in theair since the sun had fallen low in the horizon.
They carried their own drinking water, kept ice-cold in thermosbottles, and Uncle John also had a thermos tub filled with smallsquares of ice. This luxury, in connection with their ample supplyof provisions, enabled the young women to prepare a supper not to besurpassed in any modern hotel. The soup came from one can, the curriedchicken from another, while artichokes, peas, asparagus and plumpudding shed their tin coverings to complete the meal. Fruits, cheeseand biscuits they had in abundance, so there was no hardship incamping out on a deserted Arizona table-land, as far as food wasconcerned. The Interior of the limousine, when made into berths forthe three girls, was as safe and cosy as a Pullman sleeping coach.Only the men's quarters, the "lean-to" tent, was in any way open toinvasion.
After the meal was ended and the things washed and put away they allsat on folding camp chairs outside the little tent and enjoyed theintense silence surrounding them. The twilight gradually deepened intodarkness. Wampus kept one of the searchlights lit to add an element ofcheerfulness to the scene, and Myrtle was prevailed upon to sing oneor two of her simple songs. She had a clear, sweet voice, although nota strong one, and they all--especially Uncle John--loved to hear hersing.
Afterward they talked over their trip and the anticipated change fromthis arid region to the verdure of California, until suddenly a long,bloodcurdling howl broke the stillness and caused them one and allto start from their seats. That is, all but Wampus. The chauffeur,sitting apart with his black cigar in his mouth, merely nodded andsaid: "Coyote."
The Major coughed and resumed his seat. Uncle John stood looking intothe darkness as if trying to discern the creature.
"Are coyotes considered dangerous?" he asked the Canadian.
"Not to us," replied Wampus. "Sometime, if one man be out on mesaalone, an' plenty coyote come, he have hard fight for life. Coyote iswild dog. He is big coward unless pretty hungry. If I leave light burnhe never come near us."
"Then let it burn--all night," said Mr. Merrick. "There he goesagain--and another with him! What a horrible wail it is."
"I rather like it," said Patsy, with her accustomed calmness. "It iscertainly an added experience to be surrounded by coyotes. Probablyour trip wouldn't have been complete without it."
"A little of that serenade will suffice me," admitted Beth, as thehowls grew nearer and redoubled in volume.
Myrtle's eyes were big and earnest. She was not afraid, but there wassomething uncanny in being surrounded by such savage creatures.
Nearer and nearer sounded the howls, until it was easy to see a dozenfierce eyes gleaming in the darkness, not a stone's throw away fromthe camp.
"I guess you girls had better go to bed," remarked Uncle John, a bitnervously. "There's no danger, you know--none at all. Let the bruteshowl, if they want to--especially as we can't stop them. But you aretired, my dears, and I'd like to see you settled for the night."
Somewhat reluctantly they entered the limousine, drew the curtains andprepared for bed. Certainly they were having a novel experience, andif Uncle John would feel easier to have them listen to the howlingcoyotes from inside the limousine instead of outside, they could notwell object to his request.
Presently Wampus asked the Major for his revolver, and on obtainingthe weapon he walked a few paces toward the coyotes and fired a shotinto their group. They instantly scattered and made off, only toreturn in a few moments to their former position.
"Will they continue this Grand Opera chorus all night?" asked UncleJohn.
"Perhap," said Wampus. "They hungry, an' smell food. Coyote can noreason. If he could, he know ver' well we never feed him."
"The next time we come this way let us fetch along a ton or so ofcoyote feed," suggested the Major. "I wonder what the poor bruteswould think if they were stuffed full for once in their lives?"
"It have never happen, sir," observed Wampus, shaking his headgravely. "Coyote all born hungry; he live hungry; he die hungry. Ifever coyote was not hungry he would not be coyote."
"In that case, Major," said Uncle John, "let us go to bed and try tosleep. Perhaps in slumber we may forget these howling fiends."
"Very well," agreed Major Doyle, rising to enter the little tent.
Wampus unexpectedly interposed. "Wait," called the little chauffeur."Jus' a minute, if you please."
While the Major and Mr. Merrick stood wondering at the request, theCanadian, who was still holding the revolver in one hand, picked asteel rod from the rumble of the automobile and pushing aside the flapof the little tent entered. The tail-lamp of the car burned inside,dimly lighting the place.
The Major was about to follow Wampus when a revolver shot arrestedhim. This sound was followed by a quick thumping against the ground ofthe steel bar, and then Wampus emerged from the tent holding a dark,squirming object on the end of the rod extended before him.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Merrick, somewhat startled.
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"Rattlesnake," said Wampus, tossing the thing into the sagebrush. "Isee him crawl in tent while you eat supper."
"Why did you not tell us?" cried the Major excitedly.
"I thought him perhaps crawl out again. Him sometime do that. But no.Mister snake he go sleep in tent which is reserve for his superior. Isay nothing, for I do not wish to alarm the young ladies. That is whyI hold the dog Mumble so tight, for he small eye see snake too, an'fool dog wish to go fight him. Rattlesnake soon eat Mumble up--eh? Butnever mind; there is no worry. I am Wampus, an' I am here. You go tobed now, an' sleep an' be safe."
He said this rather ostentatiously, and for that reason neither of theothers praised his watchful care or his really brave act. That Wampuswas proving himself a capable and faithful servant even the Major wasforced to admit, yet the man's bombast and self-praise robbed him ofany word of commendation he justly earned.
"I think," said Uncle John, "I'll bunk on the front seat to-night. I'mshort, you see, and will just about curl up in the space. I believesnakes do not climb up wheels. Make my bed on the front seat, Wampus."
The man grinned but readily obeyed. The Major watched himthoughtfully.
"For my part," he said, "I'll have a bed made on top the roof."
"Pshaw!" said Uncle John; "you'll scratch the paint."
"That is a matter of indifference to me," returned the Major.
"You'll roll off, in your sleep, and hurt yourself."
"I'll risk that, sir."
"Are you afraid, Major?"
"Afraid! Me? Not when I'm awake, John. But what's to prevent more ofthose vermin from crawling into the tent during the night?"
"Such thing very unusual." remarked Wampus, placing the last blanketon Mr. Merrick's improvised bed. "Perhaps you sleep in tent a week an'never see another rattler."
"Just the same," concluded the Major, "I'll have my bed on top thelimousine."
He did, Wampus placing blankets and a pillow for him without a word ofprotest. The Major climbed over Uncle John and mounted to the roof ofthe car, which sloped to either side but was broad and long enoughto accommodate more than one sleeper. Being an old campaigner and ashrewd tactician, Major Doyle made two blankets into rolls, which heplaced on either side of him, to "anchor" his body in position. Thenhe settled himself to rest beneath the brilliant stars while thecoyotes maintained their dismal howling. But a tired man soon becomesinsensible to even such annoyances.
The girls, having entered the limousine from the door opposite thetent, were all unaware of the rattlesnake episode and supposed theshot had been directed against the coyotes. They heard the Majorclimbing upon the roof, but did not demand any explanation, being deepin those bedtime confidences so dear to all girls. Even they cameto disregard the persistent howls of the coyotes, and in time fellasleep.
Wampus did not seem afraid of snakes. The little chauffeur went to bedin the tent and slept soundly upon his cot until daybreak, when thecoyotes withdrew and the Canadian got up to make the coffee.
The Major peered over the edge of the roof to watch him. He had asleepy look about his eyes, as if he had not rested well. Uncle Johnwas snoring with gentle regularity and the girls were still asleep.
"Wampus," said the Major, "do you know the proper definition of afool?"
Wampus reflected, stirring the coffee carefully.
"I am not--what you call him?--a dictionairre; no. But I am Wampus. Ihave live much in very few year. I would say a fool is man who thinkhe is wise. For what is wise? Nothing!"
The Major felt comforted.
"It occurred to me," he said, beginning to climb down from the roof,"that a fool was a man who left a good home for this uncomfortablelife on a barren desert. This country wasn't made for humans; itbelongs to the coyotes and the rattlesnakes. What right have we tointrude upon them, then?"
Wampus did not reply. It was not his business to criticise hisemployers.
Aunt Jane's Nieces and Uncle John Page 10
