TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 115 



dashed round a point by an old dead tree, and I thought 

 I had been very foolish to let curiosity get the better of me. 

 But I crept forward to a large rock and crouched under the 

 boughs of an evergreen tree just as the bighorn rushed 

 back and sprang to his old stand on the ledge. 



I could see nothing but the bighorn. Was he crazy, or 

 was he scenting danger ? I was determined to find out what 

 troubled him. I knew he could not scent me, for what little 

 wind there was blew from him toward me. I stood up, 

 defying the bighorn to run, well knowing I could cut him 

 down with a shot. If he saw me he either dared not or 

 would not run, and as I stood on tiptoe I caught the out- 

 lines of something above. Oh, those fiendish ears that 

 long, snake-like tail moving slowly to and fro ! 



I climbed upon the rock in time to see two monster cou- 

 gars crouch low on the eareh. Closer to the ground they 

 crouched, great cowards that they are, for they never fight 

 an armed foe. They crouched still lower, till only their ears 

 could be seen. The bighorn seemed paralyzed. He could 

 not help seeing me, as I stood erect in plain view of him. I 

 did not know what to do, but I crept up the rock in front of 

 me and peered over the rim. The cougars had gone. The 

 bighorn seemed to awake from a trance, and as he bounded 

 away I fired. It was a weird, wild strain of music which 

 the echoes awakened as the shot set the wild woods in a 

 clatter from the magpies and jays. 



The bighorn lay dying. The bullet had struck him on 

 the shoulder and penetrated the neck. He was a beautiful 

 specimen, with his great horns and autumn coat of blue 

 hair. Could I have killed one of the cougars what a thrill 

 of joy I should have felt. As I cut out a ham I determined 

 to try for them next morning, believing they would come 

 again, find the game, and feast upon it. Taking out the 



