The Last of the Plainsmen 



tightened the nose, then with a quick jerk, fastened 

 it close round her neck. 



We heralded this achievement with yells of tri 

 umph that made the forest ring. 



Our triumph was short-lived. Jones had hardly 

 moved when the cougar shot straight out into the 

 air. The lasso caught on a branch, hauling her up 

 short, and there she hung in mid air, writhing, 

 struggling and giving utterance to sounds terribly 

 human. For several seconds she swung, slowly 

 descending, in which frenzied time I, with ruling 

 passion uppermost, endeavored to snap a picture of 

 her. 



The unintelligible commands Jones was yelling to 

 Frank and me ceased suddenly with a sharp crack 

 of breaking wood. Then crash ! Jones fell out of 

 the tree. The lasso streaked up, ran over the limb, 

 while the cougar dropped pell-mell into the bunch of 

 waiting, howling dogs. 



The next few moments it was impossible for me 

 to distinguish what actually transpired. A great 

 flutter of leaves whirled round a swiftly changing 

 ball of brown and black and yellow, from which 

 came a fiendish clamor. 



Then I saw Jones plunge down the ravine and 

 bounce here and there in mad efforts to catch the 

 whipping lasso. He was roaring in a way that made 



300 



