OH, SHOOT! 



lioness upon it. To climb the side of the 

 Grand Canon with a stout sapling on your 

 shoulder is no cinch. When to that sapling 

 you add a two-hundred-pound lion en brochette, 

 the task assumes real proportions. For every 

 step you advance, you slide back two; for 

 every foot you mount, the rim grows two feet 

 higher. The brush is stiff and it all slants 

 downhill; the suspended lion swings like a 

 pendulum and threatens to throw you. We 

 found it easiest to proceed on our hands and 

 knees. In this position we could proceed 

 with comparative comfort as much as three 

 feet at a time. It was very hot, and inasmuch 

 as the man on the downhill end of the pole 

 wore the cougar round his neck like a fur boa 

 most of the time, he experienced a constant 

 feeling of oppression a shortness of breath, 

 a very real discomfort Then, too, her whisk- 

 ers got in his ears. 



At one time, her front feet came untied, and 

 for a few moments there was a break in the 

 monotony while we tramped down a good 

 many yards of brush and rolled them flat. 

 To train for such a contingency, one should 

 hug a buzz saw for ten minutes every day on 

 an empty stomach. Ours were very empty. 



2IO 



