Western Classics: Zane Grey Collection (27 Novels in One Edition). Zane Grey

Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth—and the carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night. Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands. His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth.

      One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect.

      "Wolf!" called Mescal.

      The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence.

      "Chus—chus!" exclaimed Piute.

      Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars. The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an uproar.

      "Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle.

      "Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night—remember Father Naab said not."

      "Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree—quick!"

      "No—no—"

      "Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the rifle, and swung her up. "Climb!"

      "No—don't go—Jack!"

      With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness.