On to the Siwash 



Old Tom. I ve put them on his trail an never saw 

 hide nor hair of them again. Jones, it s no easy 

 huntin hyar.&quot; 



&quot; Well, I can see that,&quot; replied our leader. &quot; I 

 never hunted lions in such a country, and never knew 

 any one who had. We ll have to learn how. We ve 

 the time and the dogs, all we need is the stuff in us.&quot; 



&quot; I hope you fellars git some cougars, an I believe 

 you will. Whatever you do, kill Old Tom.&quot; 



&quot; We ll catch him alive. We re not on a hunt to 

 kill cougars,&quot; said Jones. 



&quot;What! &quot; exclaimed Clarke, looking from Jones 

 to us. His rugged face wore a half-smile. 



&quot; Jones ropes cougars, an ties them up,&quot; replied 

 Frank. 



&quot; I m if he ll ever rope Old Tom,&quot; 



burst out Clarke, ejecting a huge quid of tobacco. 

 &quot; Why, man alive ! it d be the death of you to git 

 near thet old villain. I never seen him, but I ve 

 seen his tracks fer five years. They re larger 

 than any hoss tracks you ever seen. He ll weigh 

 over three hundred, thet old cougar. Hyar, take 

 a look at my man s hoss. Look at his back. See 

 them marks? Wai, Old Tom made them, an he 

 made them right in camp last fall, when we were 

 down in the canon.&quot; 



The mustang to which Clarke called our attention 



205 



