WITH HOUND 
clined this and sat down on a stone to 
await our return. The fourth member 
of the party had also been about over- 
come by the hill and decided that he 
would “rest” until we came back. 
My horse was still comparatively 
fresh and I put him up at a good pace 
in the direction whence came the dogs’ 
voices. Clear-throated hounds that 
they were, even their bell notes could 
never have reached me had not the sun 
by this time driven the mist away. As 
it was, I had ridden considerably over 
a mile when their cry changed; they 
suddenly began to bark treed. Next I 
heard Ed.’s strong voice: “Down, Red- 
dy. What’s the matter with you, 
Spike? Looks like this was the first 
cat you ever treed!’ and a lot more 
talk to the dogs. My dogs came in for 
their share, too, for there’s nothing 
small about Ed. I could hear him 
talking to Colonel, my old black-and- 
tan-and-white hound. “You old spotted 
rascal,” he was saying, “don’t you just 
wish you could get at that cat? We 
know what we’d do to him, don’t we?” 
And then Colonel would whine and “talk 
back” to the hunter just as if he knew 
what was being said to him. Good, 
old, faithful dog, he went over the long 
trail by way of a rattlesnake’s fang 
almost a year later, as he was trailing 
through a bit of grass-grown lowland. 
The cat was in the very top of a 
sycamore which overhung the bed of 
the cafion. The dogs had run him free 
of all cover and there was nothing for 
him to do but climb the tallest tree he 
could find, which he did, and there he 
was, his green-yellow eyes glaring down 
on us with the bravery of a last de- 
spair. Poor, brave old cat, he clung 
as fiercely to life as you or I, mayhap 
he fought for it much better than you 
AND WILD-CAT 
aft 
or I would have fought under such 
fearful odds. Indeed, I think that had 
I been leading the hunt that day I 
should have called away the dogs, and 
yet, a glance from the crouching cat 
to the pack of dogs gathered in a rest- 
less ring around the bole of the tree, 
brought back all the hunter there was 
in me, and [I let out a yell of exultation 
when Ed.’s gun cracked and down came 
the tawny-gray body, squarely into the 
mouths of the hounds. For only a 
moment they worried it, and then, sure 
that it was quite dead, went on up the 
hillside in search of another trail. 
The discussion as to the best all- 
round dog which Ed. and I held over 
the body of the cat was interrupted by 
the call of the hounds a half-mile or 
more up the cafion. After them we 
went, pell-mell, and, in the course of 
another hour got another cat, not quite 
so large as the first, but of the same 
variety. Then we lost the hounds on 
a coyote trail, from which even the 
horn could not call them back, so we 
turned in our tracks down the valley. 
There we found the two “also rans” 
awaiting us, and, with one of them 
mounted gingerly bareback, took the 
trail for home. 
We found a steaming hot breakfast 
awaiting us—Mrs. G ’s part in the 
hunt—and it was certainly a dandy. 
Up there on the hillside the sun was 
shining brightly, but, though it was 
ten o'clock and after, a pall of fog lay 
on the valley below, and we could 
imagine the dripping brush of the low- 
lands through which I would have to 
pass. So I lingered, until well after 
noon, when, the sun having cleared the 
valley from the grasp of ocean, I rode 
regretfully down the hill and back into 
the “Land of No Hunt.” 


