The Last of the Plainsmen 



it. We threaded our way through this thicket, all 

 peering into the bisecting deer trails for cougar tracks 

 in the dust. 



&quot;Bring the dogs! Hurry!&quot; suddenly called 

 Jones from a thicket. 



We lost no time complying, and found him stand 

 ing in a trail, with his eyes on the sand. &quot; Take a 

 look, boys. A good-sized male cougar passed here 

 last night. Hyar, Sounder, Don, Moze, come on! &quot; 



It was a nervous, excited pack of hounds. Old 

 Jude got to Jones first, and she sang out; then 

 Sounder opened with his ringing bay, and before 

 Jones could mount, a string of yelping dogs sailed 

 straight for the forest. 



&quot; Ooze along, boys ! &quot; yelled Frank, wheeling 

 Spot. 



With the cowboy leading, we strung into the pines, 

 and I found myself behind. Presently even Wallace 

 disappeared. I almost threw the reins at Satan, and 

 yelled for him to go. The result enlightened me. 

 Like an arrow from a bow, the black shot forward. 

 Frank had told me of his speed, that when he found 

 his stride it was like riding a flying feather to be on 

 him. Jones, fearing he would kill me, had cautioned 

 me always to hold him in, which I had done. Satan 

 stretched out with long, graceful motions; he did not 

 turn aside for logs, but cleared them with easy and 



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