The Last of the Plainsmen 



During this time I found Kitty a most interesting 

 study. She reminded me of an enormous yellow 

 kitten. She did not appear wild or untamed until 

 approached. Then she slowly sank down, laid back 

 her ears, opened her mouth and hissed and spat, at 

 the same time throwing both paws out viciously. 

 Kitty may have rested, but did not sleep. At times 

 she fought her chain, tugging and straining at it, and 

 trying to bite it through. Everything in reach she 

 clawed, particularly the bark of the tree. Once she 

 tried to hang herself by leaping over a low limb. 

 When any one walked by her she crouched low, evi 

 dently imagining herself unseen. If one of us walked 

 toward her, or looked at her, she did not crouch. At 

 other times, noticeably when no one was near, she 

 would roll on her back and extend all four paws in 

 the air. Her actions were beautiful, soft, noiseless, 

 quick and subtle. 



The day passed, as all days pass in camp, swiftly 

 and pleasantly, and twilight stole down upon us 

 round the ruddy fire. The wind roared in the pines 

 and lulled to repose; the lonesome, friendly coyote 

 barked; the bells on the hobbled horses jingled 

 sweetly; the great watch stars blinked out of the blue. 



The red glow of the burning logs lighted up 

 Jones s calm, cold face. Tranquil, unalterable and 

 peaceful it seemed; yet beneath the peace I thought 



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