Dick for the first time realized that the day was going when he noticed
the long shadow cast by himself and the pony on the prairie sod. He had
not the slightest idea how far he had come, and there crept into his
mind a sort of dread.
He pulled Spraddle down to a walk, and looked about him. Behind him
there was no trace of the cow camp, nothing but the everlasting rise and
fall of the prairie.
But ahead was the ragged line of the blue mountains. These he knew to be
the Wichita Mountains, for, although he had never seen them before, he
had heard the boys talking about them in camp.
Then he saw the coyote on a hill a little ways ahead, looking at him in
the most aggravating way. The coyote's lips were curled back from his
teeth in a contemptuous sort of a smile, it seemed to Dick, and as he
started forward again the coyote threw up its head and actually laughed
at him.
That settled it with Dick. No coyote that ever trotted the plains could
laugh at him, but as this thought came to him he felt the dread of being
lost on the prairie, or even having to stay alone in this waste all
night.
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