The Cougar 



I do not think the bronco is as fearful of 

 the cougar as of the bear, at least my experi- 

 ence has not been such. I have had a mus- 

 tang jump pretty nearly from under me on 

 winding a bear, and I have wasted minutes 

 upon minutes in getting him near the carcass 

 of a dead one, that I might pack home a bit of 

 bruin's highly-scented flesh, and I never had 

 any similar experience where the cougar was 

 concerned. I have had my pony evince reluc- 

 tance to approach the slain lion, but not show 

 the absolute terror which seizes them in the 

 neighborhood of bear. 



My experience at this particular time, as I 

 say, was novel in two respects — first, the fright 

 with which my bronco was stricken ; and sec- 

 ond, the fight shown by the cougar. I had 

 reached the top of the divide, and was picking 

 my way across the fallen timber, which so 

 often blocks the trail over the tops of divides 

 in New Mexico. I remember distinctly hav- 

 ing gained a clear spot that was pretty well 

 filled with wild violets, which grew in great 

 profusion thereabouts, and was guiding my 

 pony that I should not trample upon them; 

 for in that God-forsaken district, 10,000 feet 

 above the level of the sea, it seemed too bad 



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