The Trail 



I awoke to strange sounds, and soon recognized the 

 cracking of iron-shod hoofs against stone; then voices. 

 Turning an abrupt bend in the sandy wash, I ran 

 into Jones and Wallace. 



&quot; Fall in ! Line up in the sad procession ! &quot; said 

 Jones. &quot; Tige and the pup are faithful. The rest 

 of the dogs are somewhere between the Grand Canon 

 and the Utah desert.&quot; 



I related my adventures, and tried to spare Moze 

 and Sounder as much as conscience would permit. 



&quot; Hard luck! &quot; commented Jones. &quot; Just as the 

 hounds jumped the cougar Oh ! they bounced him 

 out of the rocks all right don t you remember, just 

 under that cliff wall where you and Wallace came up 

 to me? Well, just as they jumped him, they ran right 

 into fresh deer tracks. I saw one of the deer. Now 

 that s too much for any hounds, except those trained 

 for lions. I shot at Moze twice, but couldn t turn 

 him. He has to be hurt, they ve all got to be hurt 

 to make them understand.&quot; 



Wallace told of a wild ride somewhere in Jones s 

 wake, and of sundry knocks and bruises he had sus 

 tained, of pieces of corduroy he had left decorating 

 the cedars and of a most humiliating event, where a 

 gaunt and bare pinon snag had penetrated under his 

 belt and lifted him, mad and kicking, off his horse. 



&quot; These Western nags will hang you on a limb 

 97 



