THE MOUNTAIN LION 203 
from a cliff or an overhanging tree limb. Gener- 
ally he chews and claws someone up pretty badly, 
and occasionally attempts to carry off one of the 
children. 
Many times my letter addressed to one of 
the party attacked is returned unclaimed. Some- 
times my letter to the postmaster or the sheriff 
of the locality is returned with the information: 
“No such party known.” Now and then I 
ask the sheriff, the postmaster, or the store- 
keeper some questions concerning this attack, 
and commonly their replies are: “It never 
happened”; “It’s a pipe dream”; “A pure 
fake”; or “Evidently whoever told you that 
story had one or two drinks too many.” 
One day I came out of the woods in the rear 
of a saw-mill. I was making my way to the liv- 
ing room of the place, between logs and lum- 
ber piles. Right round the corner of a slab 
heap I caught sight of a mountain lion just as 
it leaped at me. It missed me intentionally, 
and at once wheeled and rose up to play with 
me. In the two or three seconds that elapsed 
between the time I had my first glimpse of 
it and when I realized it was a pet I had al- 
most concluded that, after all, a lion may be a 
ferocious animal. 
On one occasion, when I was on a cliff at the 
edge of a grassy opening, I was astonished to 
