Kitty 



&quot; Same here,&quot; I cried, with a camera in one hand 

 and a rifle in the other. &quot; Let Moze climb if he 

 likes.&quot; 



Climb he did, to be kicked off again. But he 

 went back. It was a way he had. Jones at last 

 recognized either his own waste of time or Moze s 

 greatness, for he desisted, allowing the hound to 

 keep close after him. 



The cougar, becoming uneasy, stood up, reached 

 for another limb, climbed out upon it, and peering 

 down, spat hissingly at Jones. But he kept steadily 

 on with Moze close on his heels. I snapped my 

 camera on them when Kitty was not more than fifteen 

 feet above them. As Jones reached the snag which 

 upheld the leaning tree, she ran out on her branch, 

 and leaped into an adjoining pine. It was a good 

 long jump, and the weight of the animal bent the 

 limb alarmingly. 



Jones backed down, and laboriously began to climb 

 the other tree. As there were no branches low 

 down, he had to hug the trunk with arms and legs, 

 as a boy climbs. His lasso hampered his progress. 

 When the slow ascent was accomplished up to the 

 first branch, Kitty leaped back into her first perch. 

 Strange to say Jones did not grumble; none of his 

 characteristic impatience manifested itself here. I 

 supposed with him all the exasperating waits and vex- 



293 



