The Cougar 147 



but the storm was evidently almost over; the 

 leaves were all off the trees and bushes; and 

 I felt that next day there would be such a 

 chance to follow the cougar as fate rarely 

 offered. In the morning by dawn I was at 

 the bottom, and speedily found his trail. Fol- 

 lowing it I came across his bed, among some 

 cedars in a dark, steep gorge, where the 

 buttes bordered the bottom. He had evidently 

 just left it, and I followed his tracks all day. 

 But I never caught a glimpse of him, and late 

 in the afternoon I trudged wearily homeward. 

 When I went out next morning I found that 

 as soon as I abandoned the chase, my quarry, 

 according to the uncanny habit sometimes 

 displayed by his kind, coolly turned likewise, 

 and deliberately dogged my footsteps to with- 

 in a mile of the ranch house; his round foot- 

 prints being as clear as writing in the snow. 



This was the best chance of the kind that 

 I ever had; but again and again I have found 

 fresh signs of cougar, such as a lair which 

 they had just left, game they had killed, or 

 one of our venison caches which they had 

 robbed, and have hunted for them all day 

 without success. My failures were doubtless 

 due in part to various shortcomings in hun- 

 ter's-craft on my own part; but equally with- 



