TWENTY YEARS IN THE ROCKIES. 215 



venture out of the den at the foot of the rocks, to see what 

 had happened. This one did resemble a yellow dog and I 

 laughed aloud as I recalled the Major's description. I shot 

 him fairly between the eyes and one ball was sufficient. 

 Again I sat down and waited. All was still, so I got up and 

 looked around, taking care not to get too close while the 

 fierce old female still lived. No more lions appeared,, but 

 fresh proofs of their destructive powers met my eyes. 



When I returned, I found a large herd of buffaloes 

 drinking within one hundred yards of the Major's dugout. 

 I shot a fine two-year-old, which gave a plunge forward, 

 stood still a moment, then began to stagger and fell dead. 

 Major was in ecstacies at the prospect of so much meat. The 

 herd crossed the river and disappeared at once. Major was 

 soon cutting and carving away at his buffalo, and such a mess 

 of blood,, hairs and dirt as he presented I never saw before. 

 I finally took pity on him and helped him cut away the hams, 

 telling him at the same time all about my sport with his yel- 

 low dogs. He was anxious to see them but refused to ac- 

 company me to the spot, his fear and dread being too great. 



Having nothing particular to do only to follow my in- 

 clinations, I determined to revisit the den and wait for 

 further developments. I seated myself on the same rock I 

 had before occupied, straining my eyes in a vain effort to 

 penetrate the darkness that filled the entrance of this den of 

 wild beasts. Soon a young lion stalked forth, viewing the 

 surroundings with a suspicious air, but I restrained the im- 

 pulse to shoot as I was anxious to secure the old one. A 

 slight noise, directly behind and below me, called my atten- 

 tion and there was the old female within thirty feet of me. 

 She was in a crouching position, her ears lying close to her 

 neck, her long, slim tail moving from side to side in a 

 threatening manner. 



