him. "See the footprint," he told the boy. "Longer than a dog's and the mark of the side toe is larger."
"Uh-huh," agreed Billy, although he could hardly make out the impression. Lapp lighted another match and showed him one of the hound's prints.
"See the difference?"
"Is that the werewolf?" the boy asked.
Lapp laughed and tossed the match on the ground. "That old powwow man's been filling you with a lot of talk, boy. Well, it ain't no dog's track, I'll tell you that. But it ain't no wolf. I'd say it's a coyote. Sometimes they come in from the West."
"What is a coyote but a small wolf?" said Abe Zook quietly. "Two—three times before such an animal has come, but only when an evil braucher dies."
"I'll bet I know where this one came from." Lapp straightened up. "There's a regiment of soldiers up at Indian Town Gap who had their basic training out West. Some of them got coyote pups as pets and brought them along with them. This one got away and went wild again."
"The dogs put on," said Ike Yoder impatiently.
"First we had better try Wasser," added Abe Zook.
No one objected and he called over the hound, who ran to him, eager but puzzled. "Sic, boy, sic!" said Abe, patting the ground by the pad mark. Wasser cast about enthusiastically, but Blue, who had been watching and now came over, was the first to give tongue. At once the rest of the improvised pack hurried to the spot.
The men shouted and Ike cried, "To Blue go!" The pack ran to the wise old hound, but sniffed uncertainly until Wasser arrived. Instantly recognizing the scent, Wasser gave tongue and the rest joined in.
Billy expected to see the pack take right off and was disappointed to have them swirl about like blown leaves, baying as they hit the line but then losing it again. The scent was not strong by the fence, for it was partially obliterated by sheep tracks, and the hounds were uncertain how the quarry had run. Blue was trying to work it out step by step, with Wasser helping him, while the others ran about more or less at random, yelping when they struck a trace of odor but making no attempt to follow it. Abe Zook and Ike Yoder stood quietly, letting them work it out, but Isaac Lapp kept up a series of shouts to encourage his two dogs.
Suddenly the pack hit the line and burst into full cry. Once Billy had been passing a taproom where a juke box was braying out one of the standard rock records that were as familiar as the racket of traffic. Suddenly through the routine syncopation a trumpet had risen—wild, inspiring, heart-stirring. Billy had stopped dead, his soul in his mouth. As long as the trumpet shrilled he had stayed there, his feet shuffling, his arms jerking, giving little gasps in time to the rhythm. The cry of the hounds hit him in the same way. It seemed as though they were talking to him and he involuntarily cried out, "You find him, dogs! You go after him!" The men laughed, and he was embarrassed into silence, ashamed that an animal lover like himself could be encouraging a hunt. He stood listening to the cadence of the cries. From the intent expressions on the men's faces, Billy was sure that they could interpret the sounds and he wanted to ask questions, but knew better than to talk at such a moment.
The whole pack congregated in a circle around a tuft of foxtail, their noses all buried in the grass, their tails wagging. They were working eagerly, each trying to suck up with his nose a decisive whiff of the odor they knew was caught there. Billy started to run forward but Abe Zook caught him and said, "Not so near yet! The wolf let them smell, not you!"
Wasser dropped back and made a long swing. Almost at once he gave tongue. The rest left the grass and rushed over. They examined briefly the line that Wasser had discovered, yelped expectantly, and then, ignoring the old hound, dashed forward. Only a few strides, and then the whole pack burst into chorus as they poured across the meadow.
"Now they're off," said Lapp. "I'll bet
"Uh-huh," agreed Billy, although he could hardly make out the impression. Lapp lighted another match and showed him one of the hound's prints.
"See the difference?"
"Is that the werewolf?" the boy asked.
Lapp laughed and tossed the match on the ground. "That old powwow man's been filling you with a lot of talk, boy. Well, it ain't no dog's track, I'll tell you that. But it ain't no wolf. I'd say it's a coyote. Sometimes they come in from the West."
"What is a coyote but a small wolf?" said Abe Zook quietly. "Two—three times before such an animal has come, but only when an evil braucher dies."
"I'll bet I know where this one came from." Lapp straightened up. "There's a regiment of soldiers up at Indian Town Gap who had their basic training out West. Some of them got coyote pups as pets and brought them along with them. This one got away and went wild again."
"The dogs put on," said Ike Yoder impatiently.
"First we had better try Wasser," added Abe Zook.
No one objected and he called over the hound, who ran to him, eager but puzzled. "Sic, boy, sic!" said Abe, patting the ground by the pad mark. Wasser cast about enthusiastically, but Blue, who had been watching and now came over, was the first to give tongue. At once the rest of the improvised pack hurried to the spot.
The men shouted and Ike cried, "To Blue go!" The pack ran to the wise old hound, but sniffed uncertainly until Wasser arrived. Instantly recognizing the scent, Wasser gave tongue and the rest joined in.
Billy expected to see the pack take right off and was disappointed to have them swirl about like blown leaves, baying as they hit the line but then losing it again. The scent was not strong by the fence, for it was partially obliterated by sheep tracks, and the hounds were uncertain how the quarry had run. Blue was trying to work it out step by step, with Wasser helping him, while the others ran about more or less at random, yelping when they struck a trace of odor but making no attempt to follow it. Abe Zook and Ike Yoder stood quietly, letting them work it out, but Isaac Lapp kept up a series of shouts to encourage his two dogs.
Suddenly the pack hit the line and burst into full cry. Once Billy had been passing a taproom where a juke box was braying out one of the standard rock records that were as familiar as the racket of traffic. Suddenly through the routine syncopation a trumpet had risen—wild, inspiring, heart-stirring. Billy had stopped dead, his soul in his mouth. As long as the trumpet shrilled he had stayed there, his feet shuffling, his arms jerking, giving little gasps in time to the rhythm. The cry of the hounds hit him in the same way. It seemed as though they were talking to him and he involuntarily cried out, "You find him, dogs! You go after him!" The men laughed, and he was embarrassed into silence, ashamed that an animal lover like himself could be encouraging a hunt. He stood listening to the cadence of the cries. From the intent expressions on the men's faces, Billy was sure that they could interpret the sounds and he wanted to ask questions, but knew better than to talk at such a moment.
The whole pack congregated in a circle around a tuft of foxtail, their noses all buried in the grass, their tails wagging. They were working eagerly, each trying to suck up with his nose a decisive whiff of the odor they knew was caught there. Billy started to run forward but Abe Zook caught him and said, "Not so near yet! The wolf let them smell, not you!"
Wasser dropped back and made a long swing. Almost at once he gave tongue. The rest left the grass and rushed over. They examined briefly the line that Wasser had discovered, yelped expectantly, and then, ignoring the old hound, dashed forward. Only a few strides, and then the whole pack burst into chorus as they poured across the meadow.
"Now they're off," said Lapp. "I'll bet
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