The Last of the Plainsmen 



The ravine to the right, which I entered, was 

 choked with huge stones fallen from the cliff above, 

 and pifions growing thick; and I wondered appre 

 hensively how a man could evade a wild animal in 

 such a place, much less chase it. 



Old Moze pulled on his chain and sniffed at coyote 

 and deer tracks. And every time he evinced interest 

 in such, I cut him with a switch, which, to tell the 

 truth, he did not notice. 



I thought I heard a shout, and holding Moze 

 tight, I waited and listened. 



&quot; Waa-hoo waa-hoo ! &quot; floated on the air, ratfc 

 deadened as if it had come from round the trianguh. 

 cliff that faced into the valley. Urging and dragging 

 Moze, I ran down the ravine as fast as I could, a^J 

 soon encountered Wallace coming from the middle 

 ravine. 



&quot; Jones,&quot; he said excitedly, &quot; this way there s the 

 signal again.&quot; 



We dashed in haste for the mouth of the third 

 ravine, and came suddenly upon Jones, kneeling under 

 a pinon tree. 



&quot; Boys, look! &quot; he exclaimed, as he pointed to the 

 ground. There, clearly defined in the dust, was a cat 

 track as big as my spread hand, and the mere sight 

 of it sent a chill up my spine. &quot; There s a lion track 

 for you; made by a female, a two-year-old; but I 



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