172 hi the United States vi 



was Plunk, our sheep dog ; it was a pity as we may 

 never have such a chance again.^ 



' We talk of going round to Fort Steele, thence 

 to the Ute Indian Reservation, and then round here 

 again, which will be a hard but very pleasant trip. 

 The weather is awfully hot, 90' in the shade, and 

 both Dunraven and I are burnt to cinders. The 

 height which we have to go for the big horn makes 

 the air so thin that we can hardly breathe, and we 

 get palpitations of the heart. We had such a climb 

 yesterday ; I was quite sick and giddy, but we got 

 our sheep. There are some very fine views in the 

 mountains, though I have seen nothing to compare 

 with the finest bits in the Alps. The absence of 



1 I think that I have heard the Doctor say that Lord Dunraven 

 and himself, both of them attired in somewhat scanty garments, once 

 chased this mountain lion in the middle of the night. A certain enter- 

 prising Western journalist hearing of this incident elaborated it into a 

 story of the most thrilling character, which, apparently, came in some 

 manner to the ears of Mrs. Kingsley. Writing, still from Denver, the 

 Doctor said, ' We are both knocked up by hard work and hot weather, 

 and don't know what to do. The Indians are raiding and murdering 

 all over our pet hunting grounds, and the troops can do nothing with 

 them. Fancy trying to hunt mounted Indians with a few companies 

 of infantry ! What is this legend you have got hold of about a blood 

 and thunder battle with a bear ? It was not a bear we were after, it 

 was a mountain lion, and there was neither blood, thunder, nor battle. 

 It was a great pity that I didn't shoot, I thought it Griff's big dog 

 Plunk ; but Dunraven had neither knife nor rifle, and it might have 

 turned out nasty for him. I suppose that this business is the origin of 

 the wonderful story in the papers. Our lion is the puma {Felis unicolor). 

 There are plenty of them, but they are seldom seen, as they prey at 

 night. The papers tell such lies about us. They were very facetious 

 on the subject of Jim and I, " a bold Western mountain man not going 

 to die at the bidding of a British physician, however famous, etc.'" 



