18 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



hound puppy named Pot — he was an old dog, 

 the most dependable in the pack, when we 

 made our hunt. Pot had lost his mother; Uncle 

 Jim was raising him on canned milk, and, as it 

 was winter, kept him at night in a German 

 sock. The young cougar speedily accepted 

 Pot as a playmate, to be enjoyed and tyran- 

 nized over. The two would lap out of the same 

 dish; but when the milk was nearly lapped up, 

 the cougar would put one paw on Pot's face, 

 and hold him firmly while it finished the dish 

 itself. Then it would seize Pot in its fore paws 

 and toss him up, catching him again; while 

 Pot would occasionally howl dismally, for the 

 young cougar had sharp little claws. Finally 

 the cougar would tire of the play, and then it 

 would take Pot by the back of the neck, carry 

 him off, and put him down in his box by the 

 German sock. 



When we started on our cougar hunt there 

 were seven of us, with six pack-animals. The 

 latter included one mule, three donkeys — two 

 of them, Ted and Possum, very wise donkeys — 

 and two horses. The saddle-animals included 

 two mules and five horses, one of which solemnly 

 carried a cow-bell. It was a characteristic old- 

 time Western outfit. We met with the cus- 

 tomary misadventures of such a trip, chiefly 



