The Cougar 



be hidden away in those New Mexico gulches, 

 and was armed only with pick, shovel and pan. 

 I was sauntering along, beset by dreams of 

 prospective prosperity, based on the excellent 

 finds I had made, when suddenly in front of 

 me — I am sure not more than twenty-five feet 

 — two great balls of fire rudely awakened me 

 and brought my progress to an abrupt halt. I 

 dare say it took a second or two to bring me 

 down to earth, but when the earthward fiipfht 

 was accomplished I immediately concluded 

 that those balls of fire must belong to a 

 mountain lion. 



At that time my experience with the cougar 

 had been sufficient to put me in an uncertain 

 frame of mind as to just what to expect of the 

 creature. I had not an idea whether he was 

 going to spring at me or whether I could scare 

 him away. However, on chance, I broke the 

 stillness of the night by one of those cowboy 

 yells, in the calliope variations of which I was 

 pretty well versed in those days, and, to my 

 immense relief, the two glaring balls of fire 

 disappeared. 



Trudging on my way, I had once more lost 

 myself in the roseate future incidental to 

 placers averaging three dollars in gold to the 



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