The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1937-09-30
CHAPTER X

him, rode out to meet Wheeler and
Marian Dunn from Lost Whiskey
Butte, the girl pushed her horse
ahead. She stopped too close to the
old man, facing him squarely.
''He tried to keep me from COM
ing" she told Coffee, 'but there
wasn't anything he could really do.
Now, it you want me to 60 back, I
will"
Old Man Coffee grinned. He
moved his mule nearer Marian's
pony, and leaned forward to peer
into her eyes. Then he laid a bony
old hand on her shoulder. Child,
what happened to you?"
Nothing"
Something did, though" Wheeler
contradicted. He told Coffee of the
shot from the brush.
The old hunter scowled; he looked
as nearly startled as they had ever
seen him look. "This changes the
whole set-up," he complained. 81
thought I had it licked. I thought
could pretty near give names and
cases. But-this smears it."
Il don't follow that" Marian said.
Neither do l." Coffee said, dis
missing discussion. He turned to
Wheeler "You told her what we
aimed to try?"
mo"
well, you should have. This is
a kind of sad, dark job we're on
today, girl. We're going to try to
find the the man that was killed
at Short Crick."
Il guessed that" Marian said.
Old Man Coffee led off to the
northeast, his sleepy-eared mule in
an ambling shuttle, and they rode in
silence for a little way. Coffee sig
nailed to them to come abreast.
maybe you've wondered some"
he said, "why I've been kind of
prowling around of nights, as your
wagon boss was at pains to make
known. Well, guess it won't hurt
nothing to tell how thing like this
is done. Did you ever listen to
coyote voices, of night, Marian?"
Il couldn't very well help it, could
II"
There's a funny thing about
them. More things interest coyotes
than you'd expect. And if some
thing kind of strange and interest
ing happens on the range, all of 'em
know it, all over the desert. We'd
learn queer things from 'em if we
could understand their talk a little
better.
Coyotes won't touch a dead man;
neither will loafer wolf. But they'll
circle around, and kind of wall, and
sing. Once before this I found out
where a corpse was hid by listening
to the coyote voices at night"
''This time, we got a break.
There's loafer wolf on the range.
He'll only talk about certain things,
and maybe speak only two, three
times week. So when he lets
out the same kind of queer cry, in
the same place three of four nights
in row, a man begins to wonder"
That was long day, and a
strange day-the strangest in Mar
ian Dunn's life. Their work carried
them great distance, much of
which was wasted in quartering,
and the long following of false trails.
Some queer geometry of land
marks was working in Coffee's
head, but what it was like they
could not guess, and he did not ex-
plain. Repeatedly Old Man Coffee
pulled the dogs off invisiable trails
which he declared were those of
coyotes. It was after noon before a
new note came into the bowling of
the hounds, signaling the trail of the
1oafer wolf.
''This loafer TRAIL" said Old Man
Coffee, lis three days old. + don't
reckon it'll serve"
It did not serve, though Coffee let
it lead them seven miles in no par
ticular direction before he pulled off
the dogs.
The sun had gone down behind
the Tuscaroras, and the long gray
dusk was on the range as they came
on to the broken wilderness of up
thrust red rock that was known as
the Red Sheep. The dogs were voic-
ing uncertainty here, obviously run
ming no trail, though Old Man Cof-
fee seemed to know where he was
going And now old Rock made a
curious play. The old dog had been
in a sulk all day long, unwilling to
quarter the trail of the loafer wolf;
but now he sent up long full
throated cry and drifted swiftly,
nose down, hundred yards along
the red rock.
Old Man Coffee said under his
hreath ssT'11 he eterna11v damned -