A COUGAR HUNT 25 



Jim sought to undo the saddle and I clutched 

 the bridle of his mule and of my horse and kept 

 them quiet. Finally the frightened black horse 

 sank on his knees with his head on Archie's lap; 

 the saddle was taken off — and promptly rolled 

 down-hill fifty or sixty yards before it fetched 

 up against a pinyon; we repacked, and finally 

 reached the top of the rim. 



Meanwhile the hounds had again started, 

 and we concluded that the bitch must have 

 been on the trail of a different animal, after 

 all. By the time we were ready to proceed 

 they were out of hearing, and we completely 

 lost track of them. So Uncle Jim started in 

 the direction he deemed it probable they would 

 take, and after a while we were joined by Pot. 

 Evidently the dogs were tired and thirsty and 

 had scattered. In about an hour, as we rode 

 through the open pine forest across hills and 

 valleys, Archie and I caught, very faintly, a 

 far-off baying note. Uncle Jim could not hear 

 it, but we rode toward the spot, and after a 

 time caught the note again. Soon Pot heard 

 it and trotted toward the sound. Then we 

 came over a low hill crest, and when half-way 

 down we saw a cougar crouched in a pine on 

 the opposite slope, while one of the hounds, 

 named Ranger, uttered at short intervals a 



