232 BIG GAME FIELDS 



and glaring wickedly at the dogs. My position 

 was such that it made it difficult to shoot low 

 enough to make a vital shot for fear of deflecting 

 the bullet against the rock. I drew up my rifle, 

 however, and sighted quickly as best I could, not 

 wishing to give him an opportunity for another 

 run. The shot taking effect too high, the cougar 

 either leaped or was knocked by force of the bul- 

 let to the opposite side. Upon running up to a 

 point where I could see, I found he had taken 

 up his position on the slope to fight for his life, 

 though wounded and at bay. Having long made 

 myself familiar with the characteristics of the 

 cougar, I knew that he would be unlikely at a 

 time like this to make an attack, though they will 

 threaten and do all in their power to intimidate. 

 As I approached with the kodak he posed beauti- 

 fully, baring his cruel fangs and growling in a 

 coarse undertone. His eyes, like two disks of 

 pure gold, glared in the manner symbolic all the 

 world over of uncompromising animalism. He 

 seemed to object as seriously to having his picture 

 taken as some Apache Indians I snapped about a 

 year ago. Hi handed over my .30-40, and with 

 a better-directed shot I ended the career of at 

 least one deer-slayer. 



He was evidently in the prime of life, sleek, 



