INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



My first destination was a ranch on Straw- 

 berry Creek belonging to the guide, about 

 twelve miles from Meeker. Here for several 

 days we engaged in a fruitless hunt, until one 

 morning a fresh fall of snow covered the 

 ground, when our efforts were rewarded by 

 the dogs striking a couple of cat trails ; these 

 we followed a short distance, with the whole 

 pack tearing away ahead of us in full cry. The 

 dogs followed the trail to a great pile of mas- 

 sive rocks, which towered a hundred feet 

 above our heads, and there became be- 

 wildered. What had become of the stealthy 

 bobcats? The guide and myself climbed the 

 rocks to search for them. Looking down 

 from the summit I saw one of them lying in 

 front of a cave surveying the dogs, which 

 were silently and swiftly nosing around below 

 it. It was easy enough to shoot the cat where 

 it was, but as it rested on the ledge of a rock 

 of some breadth, it was a grave question 

 whether it might not die there where it would 



