INTER-OCEAN HUNTING TALES 



finally disappeared around the base of the 

 mountain. We took a short cut across the spur 

 of the mountain and soon caught the steady 

 baying of the dogs, and I knew that something 

 was treed or cornered. On the side of a steep 

 slope, which extended hundreds of feet down 

 to the valley, stood a pinon tree with a fine, 

 large lion perched in its branches a more 

 beautiful pose for a photograph I could hardly 

 imagine. The light was good and the sur- 

 roundings all that could be desired to produce 

 the proper effect. The guide suggested a 

 doubt in regard to the lion's remaining in his 

 present position very long, and that one of us 

 should cover him with a rifle while the other 

 used the camera. My love of sport is not co 

 platonic that I could readily forego the deadly 

 part of the pastime for the aesthetic. So I 

 held the rifle carefully pointed at a vital spot, 

 and after a little space the animal quivered, 

 as though just about in the act of taking a 

 spring out of the tree, which, had he effected, 

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