The talk about buffalo, wild-horse hunters, lions and dogs, the prospect of hard riding and unusual adventure; the vision of Old Tom that had already begun to haunt me, filled my mind with pictures and fancies.

The other fellows dropped off to sleep, and quiet reigned.

Suddenly a succession of queer, sharp barks came from the plain, close to the cabin.

Coyotes were paying us a call, and judging from the chorus of yelps and howls from our dogs, it was not a welcome visit.

Above the medley rose one big, deep, full voice that I knew at once belonged to Sounder.