The Last of the Plainsmen 



&quot;Look there!&quot; rang in my ear, and Jones 

 smashed me on the back with a blow, which at any 

 ordinary time would have laid me flat. 



In a low, stubby pinon tree, scarce twenty feet 

 from us, was a tawny form. An enormous mountain- 

 lion, as large as an African lioness, stood planted 

 with huge, round legs on two branches; and he faced 

 us gloomily, neither frightened nor fierce. He 

 watched the running dogs with pale, yellow eyes, 

 waved his massive head and switched a long, black- 

 tufted tail. 



&quot;It s Old Tom! sure as you re born! It s Old 

 Tom!&quot; yelled Jones. &quot;There s no two lions like 

 that in one country. Hold still now. Jude is here, 

 and she ll see him she ll show him to the other 

 hounds. Hold still ! &quot; 



We heard Jude coming at a fast pace for a lame 

 dog, and we saw her presently, running with her nose 

 down for a moment, then up. She entered the clump 

 of trees, and bumped her nose against the pinon Old 

 Tom was in, and looked up like a dog that knew her 

 business. The series of wild howls she broke into 

 quickly brought Sounder and Moze to her side. 

 They, too, saw the big lion, not fifteen feet over their 

 heads. 



We were all yelling and trying to talk at once, in 

 some such state as the dogs. 



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