Adam got up and, pulling on his boots, walked out a little way from his camp. What an opaque orange gloom! Nevertheless, it had radiance. He could see almost as well as when the full moon soared in silver effulgence. More cracking and rolling of little rocks, and then the dislodgment of a heavy one, convinced Adam that a burro was climbing the slope or a panther had come down to prowl around camp. At any rate the displacement of stones jarred unnaturally on Adam’s sensitive ear. Hurrying across to the Virey shack, he approached the side farther from the slope and called through the brush wall, “Mrs. Virey!” “Yes. What do you want, Wansfell?” she replied, instantly. She had been wide awake. “Have you heard the sliding rocks?” “Indeed I have! All through that strange roar of wind--and later.” “You and Virey better get up and take your blankets out a ways, where you will not be in danger. I think there’s a burro or a panther up on the slope. You know how loose the stones are--how at the slightest touch they come sliding and rolling. I’ll go up and scare the beast away.” “Wansfell, you’re wrong,” came the reply, with that old mockery which always hurt Adam. “You should not insult a burro--not to speak of a panther.” “What?” queried Adam, blankly. “It is another kind of an animal.” But for that subtle mockery of voice Adam would have been persuaded the woman was out of her head, or at least answering him in her sleep. “Mrs. Virey, please----” “Wansfell, it’s a sneaking coyote,” she called, piercingly, and then she actually uttered a low laugh. Adam was absolutely dumfounded. “Coyote!” he ejaculated. “Yes. It’s my husband. It’s Virey. He found out the rolling rocks frightened me at night. So he climbs up there and rolls them.... Sees how close he can come to hitting the shack!... Oh, he’s done that often!” An instant Adam leaned there with his head bent to the brush wall, as if turned to stone. Then like a man stung he leaped up and bounded round the shack toward the slope. In the orange radiance on that strange, moon-blanched slope he dimly saw a moving object. It stood upright. Indeed, no burro or panther! Adam drew a deep and mighty breath for the yell that must jar the very stones from their sockets. “HYAR!” he yelled in stentorian roar. Like thunder the great sound pealed up the slope. “COME DOWN OR I’LL WRING YOUR NECK!” Only the clapping, rolling, immeasurable echoes answered him. The last hollow clap and roll died away, leaving the silence deader than before. * * * * *