OH, SHOOT! 



with a parklike growth of magnificent pines. 

 This was to be the scene of our adventures; 

 here Uncle Jim had pitched camp and was 

 awaiting us. From the stories we had heard, 

 we expected to flush a covey of cougar at 

 every step now, and so, bearing in mind that 

 they take alarm easily, we made as much 

 noise as possible and managed to avoid kicking 

 any out of the grass. 



Uncle Jim keeps his horses on this plateau, 

 under authority of a grazing permit from the 

 government. In one respect at least it is an 

 ideal location, for a quarter of a mile of log 

 fence thrown across the saddle gives him a 

 five-thousand-acre pasture, and the only way 

 his stock can get out of that pasture is to fall 

 out. His horses are of the self-raising variety, 

 and they neither require nor tolerate any 

 attention from outsiders. When he needs 

 one he takes an early breakfast and a stout 

 lariat, then rides through the woods until he 

 discovers one which he fancies. Thereupon 

 he lights out after it, and runs it twenty or 

 thirty miles, or until it has to stop for re- 

 freshment. With good luck, he pens it into 

 a corral, and is thus enabled to get within 

 roping distance. This accomplished, the real 



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