Sounder was on the trail of something, and he had it headed my way.

Satan heard, shot up his long ears, and tried to go ahead; but I restrained and soothed him into quiet.
Long moments I sat there, with the poignant consciousness of the wildness of the scene, of the significant rattling of the stones and of the bell-tongued hound baying incessantly, sending warm joy through my veins, the absorption in sensations new, yielding only to the hunting instinct when Satan snorted and quivered.

Again the deep-toned bay rang into the silence with its stirring thrill of life.

And a sharp rattling of stones just above brought another snort from Satan.
Across an open space in the pinyons a gray form flashed.

I leaped off Satan and knelt to get a better view under the trees.