426 BIG GAME OF WORTH AMERICA. 



flash in the air, and the dead Cougar's mate left the same 

 tree, a little higher up, and with a bold leap struck the 

 ground thirty feet away. 



"I started the, dog on the track of this one, and followed 

 up the chase. The Cougar took to the hill-side. I had just 

 succeeded in forcing my way through a mass of salmon- 

 brush, and had got upon a log that lay in the edge of a fern- 

 opening, where I could see a hundred yards up the hill; the 

 dog and Cougar had disappeared in the brush on the oppo- 

 site side of the opening, when I was dazed at seeing a white- 

 and-black object coming through the ferns toward me with 

 the velocity of an arrow. ' What in thunder is it ? ' I 

 thought, out loud. ' My dog ? My noble dog ! Now, brave 

 Saxon, hold thy nerve and defend thy friend. A cool head, 

 a steady hand, and you may, by good fortune, save your 

 dog ! ' These thoughts had but just flashed through my 

 frenzied brain when I discovered the Cougar vaulting in 

 mid-air. Two more leaps like that, and good-bye old dog ! 

 As the varmint raised in the air the next time, the report 

 of my rifle waked the echoes of the forest. 



" 'O, you mutton-head ! made a clean miss — danged if 

 you didn';t ! ' The next bound, and the Cougar fell upon my 

 dog. One muffled yell, and all was over with poor Spot ! 

 The Cougar had crushed his skull with one grasp of his 

 mighty jaws. 



"Again my rifle was leveled; but what strange movements 

 are these 1 The Cougar has straightened out on the ground 

 near my dog. What, dead? Yes, dead; and, on examina- 

 tion, I found that my bullet had passed through her heart, 

 coming out at the fifth rib ! And that Cougar killed my dog 

 after receiving that shot ! She measured eight feet from tip 

 of nose to tip of tail, and would have weighed fully one 

 hundred and sixty pounds; while the male Cougar— the 

 one killed from the tree — was the finest specimen I have 

 ever seen, measuring ten feet one inch in length. 



"Poor old Spot! He died while retreating from the 

 enemy; but I never blamed him. I have never known a 

 single dog to stand a rush like that. 



