The ball of gray fur straightened into the sharp ears and the flashing teeth of a coyote puppy.

Buck Daniels' foot slipped on a pebble and at the sound the coyote darted to the shadow of a little shrub and crouched there, hardly distinguishable from the shade which covered it, and the child, with infinitely cunning instinct, raced to a patch of yellow sand and tawny rocks among which she cowered and remained there moveless.
One thing at least was certain.

Whistling Dan was not in the cave, for if he had been the child would have run to him for protection, or at least cried out in her alarm.

This information Haines whispered to Kate and she nodded, turning a white face toward him.

Then she stepped out from the rock and went straight toward Joan.
There was no stir in the little figure.