CHAPTER XVII 



CONCLUSION 



KITTY was not the only cougar brought into 

 camp alive. The ensuing days were fruit 

 ful of cougars and adventure. There were 

 more wild rides to the music of the baying hounds, 

 and more heart-breaking canon slopes to conquer, and 

 more swinging, tufted tails and snarling savage faces 

 in the pinons. Once again, I am sorry to relate, I 

 had to glance down the sights of the little Remington, 

 and I saw blood on the stones. Those eventful days 

 sped by all too soon. 



When the time for parting came it took no little 

 discussion to decide on the quickest way of getting 

 me to a railroad. I never fully appreciated the 

 inaccessibility of the Siwash until the question arose 

 of finding a way out. To return on our back trail 

 would require two weeks, and to go out by the trail 

 north to Utah meant half as much time over the 

 same kind of desert. Lawson came to our help, 

 however, with the information that an occasional 

 prospector or horse hunter crossed the canon from the 

 Saddle, where a trail led down to the river. 



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