Old Tom 



washes easy to jump across, and at their mouths a 

 mile deep and impassable. Huge pine trees shaded 

 these gullies, to give way to the gray growth of 

 stunted oak, which in turn merged into the dark 

 green of pinon. A wonderful country for deer and 

 lions, it seemed to me, but impassable, all but impossi 

 ble for a hunter. 



Frank soon appeared, brushing through the bend 

 ing oaks, and Sounder trotted along behind him. 



&quot; Where s Moze? &quot; inquired Jones. 



&quot; The last I heard of Moze he was out of the 

 brush, goin across the pinon flat, right for the canon. 

 He had a hot trail.&quot; 



&quot;Well, we re certain of one thing; if it was a 

 deer, he won t come back soon, and if it was a lion, 

 he ll tree it, lose the scent, and come back. We ve 

 got to show the hounds a lion in a tree. They d run 

 a hot trail, bump into a tree, and then be at fault. 

 What was wrong with Sounder? &quot; 



&quot; I don t know. He came back to me.&quot; 



&quot; We can t trust him, or any of them yet. Still, 

 maybe they re doing better than we know.&quot; 



The outcome of the chase, so favorably started, 

 was a disappointment, which we all felt keenly. 

 After some discussion, we turned south, intending 

 to ride down to the rim wall and follow it back to 

 camp. I happened to turn once, perhaps to look 



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