56 AN AMERICAN HUNTER 



at an end, for I had but three days left; but as it turned 

 out these were the three most lucky days of the whole 

 trip. 



The weather was beautiful, the snow lying deep 

 enough to give the dogs easy trailing even on the southern 

 slopes. Under the clear skies the landscape was daz- 

 zling, and I had to wear snow-glasses. On the first of the 

 three days, February i2th, we had not ridden half an 

 hour from the ranch before we came across the trail of 

 a very big bobcat. It was so heavy that it had broken 

 through the crust here and there, and we decided that 

 it was worth following. The trail went up a steep moun- 

 tain to the top, and we followed on foot after the dogs. 

 Among the cliffs on the top they were completely at fault, 

 hunting every which way. After awhile Goff suddenly 

 spied the cat, which had jumped off the top of a cliff into 

 a pinyon. I killed it before any of the dogs saw it, and 

 at the shot they all ran in the wrong direction. When 

 they did find us skinning it, they were evidently not at 

 all satisfied that it was really their bobcat the one which 

 they had been trailing. Usually as soon as the animal 

 was killed they all lay down and dozed off; but on this 

 occasion they kept hurrying about and then in a body 

 started on the back trail. It was some time before we 

 could get them together again. 



After we had brought them in we rode across one or 

 two ridges, and up and down the spurs without finding 

 anything, until about noon we struck up a long winding 

 valley where we came across one or two old cougar trails. 

 The pack were following in our footsteps behind the 



