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PUREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec 3, 1904. 
A Colorado Lion Hunt. 
The mountain lien of the West is the panther or 
cougar of our Eastern States, sometimes called "painter" 
by the old-fashioned backwoodsman; in some localities it 
goes by the name of "Indian devil," no doubt on account 
of the weird, unearthly noise it makes at night. In 
Mexico it is known as the "puma," and grows to a larger 
size than elsewhere. The mountain lion is in appearance 
very similar to the African lioness, having a smooth, 
tawny skin without any mane ; a full-grown animal that 
will measure about 8 feet from its nose to the end of the 
tail and weighs about 200 pounds, is considered a large 
specimen. They seldom exceed this, and more frequently 
fall below it. 
Although often engaged in hunting big game, I never 
saw a mountain lion at large except - when one has been 
rounded up by a pack of dogs. In their habits they are 
stealthy and secretive, carefully keeping concealed, and 
never willing to fight unless cornered with no chance of 
escape. Occasionally, when the odds are overwhelmingly 
in its favor, a lion will provoke a battle, but this is not 
often the case. 
In disposition and character the mountain lion belies 
its name ; of all carnivorous beasts it is, perhaps, the 
most cowardly. Being exceedingly destructive, it not 
only kills for food., but it also kills out of wantonness. 
I have run across numbers of deer that have been 
destroyed by the same animal within short distances of 
each other, the carcasses being allowed to remain almost 
entire. It has also been stated on good authority that one 
lion will be likely to kill in the course of a year about 
150 deer. 
Considering its destructive disposition, I have no> doubt 
that in a country where the deer are at all numerous this 
statement is not far from the truth. The ranchman has 
a cordial hatred for this destroyer of his stock, and the 
devilish cunning displayed by the lion in evading traps 
and turning away from poisoned meat makes him all the 
more unpopular. This animal will not eat of any kill un- 
less it is his own or some other lion. Extremity of 
hunger may cause him to act differently, but it is excep- 
tional. Most success in hunting this game is to be found 
in localities where the deer are plentiful. 
It is practically useless to attempt any hunting of this 
kind unless you have a pack of well trained dogs handled 
by someone who has complete control over them. Great 
care and patience has to be exercised in breaking a pack 
of dogs for this purpose, and stop them from running 
other game. If, for example, a pack should take after a 
timber wolf, that animal' is so fleet that he would dis- 
tance most of his pursuers and string them out consider- 
ably. The wolf lias been known to turn on the pack thus 
separated and kill a number of the dogs, one after the 
other, before the pack could be united. The disappointed 
huntsman, reaching the end of the run on his jaded horse, 
might survey the remnants of his pack — first the sur- 
vivors with downcast heads and apologetic tails between 
their legs- — and then some dog fur scattered over the blood- 
bespattered ground, and here and there a mangled corpse. 
It is no joke to have a pack run for miles after the wrong 
game over rough country, your whole day's sport broken 
up, and perhaps lose your dogs for several days. 
The mountain lion has not much endurance in the 
chase, although very fast for a short distance, which he 
covers by a series of leaps. In a short time he is treed 
or driven to the ledge of a precipice or into some hiding 
place. If you are fond of hunting with a camera, you 
generally have ample time to take a photograph of your 
prize, perhaps posing in the branches of a tree and look- 
ing as pleasant as possible — for a mountain lion !. 
The lively serenade furnished by the dogs, which he 
recognizes by continual growls, displaying his whole set 
of ivory, completes a scene not soon forgotten. Your 
share of the business is very tame, although absolutely 
effective. A shot at close range behind the shoulder, and 
the lion tumbles among the savage dogs to engage in a 
losing fight; while in the agony of death, not infrequently, 
he leaves some little reminders of his long claws and 
strong teeth upon his assailants. 
In the month of January, 1900, I engaged the services 
of a man with a good pack of dogs to hunt "lions" and 
"cats" in Colorado. The "cats" referred to are bob- 
cats, not the wildcats known in the Eastern States. The 
winter was unusually free from snowfalls, and the 
ground being exceedingly dry, it made hunting very diffi- 
cult, because the. dogs could hardly follow the scent on 
the ground. 
My first destination was a ranch on Strawberry Creek 
belonging to the guide, about twelve miles from Meeker. 
Here we engaged in a fruitless hunt for several days, 
until one morning a fresh fall of snow covered the 
ground, when our efforts were rewarded by the dogs 
striking a couple of cat trails ; these we followed a short 
distance, with the whole pack tearing away ahead of us in 
full call. The dogs followed the trail to a great pile of 
massive rocks, which towered a hundred feet above our 
heads, and there became bewildered. What had become 
of the stealthy bobcats? The guide and myself climbed 
the rocks to search for them. Looking down from the 
summit I saw one of them lying in front of the cave 
surveying the dogs, which were silently and swiftly 
nosing around below it. 
It was easy enough to shoot the cat where it was, but 
as it rested on the ledge of a rock of some breadth, it was 
a grave question whether it might not die there where it 
would be practically inaccessible, and we would have all 
our pains for nothing. 
To drive the cat from its position into 1 better one 
was more than a doubtful possibility, as it was likely to 
run back into the cave. So I took a chance and fired. 
Like a crash of lightning above their heads, the excited 
dogs heard the report and knew "that there was some- 
thing doing." The wounded cat gave a sudden leap into 
space and fell among them. If there is any question 
about a "cat having nine lives," it seems that the dogs 
were bound to be on the safe side, for they hauled the re- 
mains until I began to fear that the fur might be damaged 
before I could come to the rescue. Through a fatal 
curiosity, the other cat peeped over the precipice, and 
paid for its rashness with its hide, which I added to my 
collection. The job of skinning the cats I turned over to 
the guide. 
The big dogs sat around in sullen dignity, particularly 
avoiding any familiarity with smaller dogs and with each 
other. Each one seemed to consider himself the hero of 
the occasion. I have had occasion to observe that the 
pack would work and fight v/ell together, but after the 
fray they seemed to be intensely jealous of each other. 
Several of the dogs interested me considerably. One 
of thm was called "Old Jim," a big black-and-tan fox- 
hound, with a deep bass voice which would swell the 
chorus when the pack was in full call and sometimes 
almost drown it. Old Jim would sometimes provoke the 
not over angelic temper of the guide by occasionally lead- 
ing the whole pack after a coyote. On one occasion he 
had distinguished himself by whipping a coyote, and 
whenever one of these "sassy" prairie wolves would 
show itself, he could not resist the temptation of giving 
chase, leading the whole pack after him. 
Anyone acquainted with western hunting knows how 
useless it is for dogs to attempt to outrun a coyote. The 
coyotes would frequently come close to the pack, if there 
was no man near-by, as though to provoke a chase for 
our special annoyance. The dogs, however, would never 
run the coyotes' trail ; they were broken of that. 
Another interesting acquaintance was a dog called 
Turk, a cross-breed, but a very strong and stubborn 
fighter, all seamed with scars. Turk kept near the guide, 
and did not run with the pack except when there was 
something in view. He was a good-natured dog ordi- 
narily, but an ugly customer in a scrap. 
There was another dog called Boxer which had a very 
keen scent; long before the rest could discover a trail, 
you could hear Boxer's knowing yelps, which would 
gradually develop into a chorus, as one by one the other 
dogs would detect the scent as it became warmer. Boxer 
had more judgment than any other dog in the pack, and 
was very good in puzzling out a broken trail. 
We spent several days longer at the ranch on Straw- 
berry Creek. While there the guide purchased a broken 
down horse to feed to the dogs. It is not a particularly 
easy matter to keep twenty-one dogs supplied with food. 
When the horse was led out for execution the dogs be- 
came intensely excited and seemed to know "what was 
up." The moment the animal was shot, and almost be- 
fore it could fall to the ground, the whole pack of dogs, big 
and small, was tearing some part of the carcass. No 
doubt the habit of attacking wild animals as soon as they 
have been shot developed their naturally savage dis- 
positions. 
At the suggestion of the guide, we decided to go to a 
ranch near the Bear River Canon, two days' journey from 
our present location. When we arrived at the ranch, 
after a long day's ride on horseback, we found the ranch- 
man's wife keeping house; her husband had left for 
several days. She seemed in no condition to entertain 
us on account of a bad headache, but kindly offered to do 
whatever she could. We volunteered to help her out with 
her domestic duties. First of all I prescribed for her 
headache ; the medicine went down the wrong way, which 
caused her to- vomit, after which she declared she felt 
better. As the result proved satisfactory in an unex- 
pected way, my professional pride did not permit me to 
enlighten her to the contrary. I say professional pride, 
because I went by the nickname of the "Doctor" on ac- 
count of an emergency case I carried with me. I made 
myself useful in doing most of the chores usual on such 
occasions, while the guide held the baby, which howled 
incessantly. The expression on his face while perform- 
ing this duty was as angelic as I have seen it when Old 
Jim would lead the whole pack off on a chase after a 
coyote against his impotent protest. When the meal was 
served, two other children turned up, one a little girl nine 
years old, who was censured for not taking care of the 
baby; the other a boy of about eleven, who was particu- 
larly good, according to his mother's account of him. 
Our first day's experience with these interesting children 
caused us to reverse the parental opinion. When we re- 
turned from our hunt the evening of the following day, 
the guide missed his lasso ; the good little boy had tried 
to lasso a cat which was selecting some delicacies from 
a tin can, the cat took a sudden leap to escape the- lasso, 
and in doing so shoved its head into the can and cinched 
the lasso round its body; cat, can, and lasso disappeared 
in the sage brush and were never found. 
The country around Bear River Canon is very rough 
and quite picturesque. The canon is steep and cuts a 
great gorge in the mountain, and is very difficult to cross. 
In one place we were headed off by the precipice, which 
must have been fully a thousand feet in depth ; I rolled a 
stone off the edge, and its descent seemed to take a con- 
siderable time. A shower of broken fragments and dust, 
followed a second or two afterward by a dull crash which 
reverberated through the canon, announced the tremina- 
tion of its fall. 
The dogs finally succeeded in jumping a lion, running 
right upon him. From a distance I could see the chase 
along the side of a mountain until it turned in the direc- 
tion of the canon. The lion did not seem to be going 
very fast while covering the ground by long leaps, which 
he appeared to do- without much effort, but when I looked 
at the pack which did not seem to be gaining' on him, 
they were straining every nerve, and looked as if they 
were "going it for all they were worth." No doubt the 
easy gait of the lion made his speed deceptive. The lion 
took refuge upon a ledge of the precipice some fifteen feet 
below the crest. When we arrived at the spot the dogs- 
were raising an awful din in their impotent frenzy as- 
they locked down upon the smiling countenance of the 
lion, which was displaying all his teeth. It was thought 
inadvisable to shoot the lion on the ledge where he was; 
because there was a good chance of his dying in an in- 
accessible spot, so we dropped stones on him, hoping, 
to drive him on out of that place and compel him to run 
to the top of the precipice and take refuge in a tree. 
[to be continued.] 
E. F. R. 
North Carolina Attractions. 
Raleigh, North Carolina.— Under the direction of 
the writer, Governor Aycock and the other State officers 
enjoyed their fourth annual rabbit hunt two days before 
Thanksgiving. The party started from the Capitol 
Square here in an ambulance, not forgetting to take the 
components of a good dinner in the shape of a roasted 
turkey and plenty of baked sweet potatoes and some good 
bread. The hunting ground was five miles west of here, 
and there the party was joined by Mr. William Robbins 
with his pack of nine beagles, and by Mr. Charles Craw- 
ford with his pack of the same number. We stopped at a 
house more than a century old, and the hunt began with- 
out any preliminaries. The country is rolling, set thick 
here and there with noble forests, corn fields, cow-pea 
patches (dear to the taste of the rabbit), and with fields 
of broomsedge, in some places thickly grown up with 
young pines. It is an ideal rabbit country, and the rab- 
bits in such cover thrive wonderfully. They are big, 
hardy fellows, and run, as the Governor expressed it, 
"just like a fox." In fact, some of the rabbits ran two 
or three miles and the music by the dogs was simply 
grand to the ear of the listening officials, who were all 
enthusiastic sportsmen. The Governor carried a gun, and 
so did State Auditor Dixon, and the rivalry was great 
between the two. The Governor won out, killing three, 
while the Auditor bagged only two. At a distance of 75 
yards the Governor, with a Remington gun lent him by 
me, killed a rabbit by hitting it in the eye. He declared 
the eye was all he saw, and added that he made it a point 
to shoot rabbits in the eye. He acquired a great reputa- 
tion at once among the entire party. In all 15 rabbits 
were bagged, ten of which fell to the guns, while five 
were taken by the dogs. I didn't carry a gun, but made 
it a point to keep just as near the dogs as I could, and I 
must have run and walked twenty miles during the hunt. 
By the way, the costume I wear is a model one for men 
who come south to hunt, being entirely of canvas, the 
trousers being made to fit tight around the ankle and to 
button, over these the canvas leggins fitting snugly. The 
trousers and hunting coat are of 12-ounce duck. Light 
shoes with very broad soles are worn. In this clothing 
one can pass without trouble through the thickets of 
blackberries, well set with briers which abound down 
South. 
The hunt ended a little before three o'clock, and then 
we went to the old country house and applied ourselves 
to the turkey and potatoes, adding to these a couple of gal- 
lons of fresh milk and about four pounds of good, home- 
made butter. Many a joke was passed around as we ate 
that excellent dinner. One of the sportsmen was Com- 
missioner of Agriculture Patterson, who was dressed very 
much like the pictures one sees in the papers of the 
Southern politician— big hat, of the softest texture, long 
coat, the clothing being of the black so much affected 
by the old-style Southern gentleman. The up-to-date 
people call this type of coat a Prince Albert, but to the 
negro it is always known as a "Jim-swinger," and is to 
them one of the most coveted garments. Attired in this 
costume the tall Commissioner, a very enthusiastic rabbit 
hunter, said he was ready for any chase. He did not 
carry a gun, but was right in the running after the rab- 
bits, and kept the hounds very close-pressed. One of the 
darkies with us was a great admirer of the Commissioner, 
and very early in the game expressed his admiration by 
saying to the writer : "Dat Comishner gemnum shore is 
a runnin' man. I never seen in my life any man whar 
cud outrun him. Den, too, he's main hand about cheer- 
ing on de dogs. Dey hear him er comin', en when he 
whoops there is sompin' doin'. He shore is the runninest 
man I ever seed, an' de shoutinest. En he can carry dat 
Jim-swinger anywhere." 
The rabbits, which were carried in a crocus sack by 
one of the darkies, were brought back to Raleigh and 
given to one of the charitable institutions. Everybody 
in this part of the world eats rabbit. Sometimes it is 
barbecued, that being a very popular mode of preparation, 
but it is cooked in a dozen ways. Rabbits are brought in 
here by the hundreds. A great many are caught in gums, 
which are made out of a hollow log or else a box, long 
and small, with one end permanently closed, and at the 
other a slide set with a Fig. 4 trap, b?.ited with a bit of 
cabbage. Country boys take thousands in this way. 
Rabbits generally sell for ten cents' apiece, and are always 
in request. In a county .near here they are known as 
"sand horses," and when I asked a man from that county 
why this name was given them, he replied that it was be- 
cause "they play around in the sand in the moonlight." 
Dr. Jas. R. Rogers, of Raleigh, went to Chase City, 
Va., for a fox hunt this week, and was joined there by 
Mr. O. K. Holding, of Wake Forest, with his pack of 15 
fox hounds. They went to the Hotel Mecklenburg, where 
there is a pack of 18 hounds. The sport began Tuesday 
morning. They found that the writer had told the truth 
when he said in a recent letter to Forest and Stream 
that deer are so plentiful in that part of Virginia that 
they greatly embarrass the fox hunters, who> dearly love 
to catch the foxes, but at such a time set no value upon 
the deer at all. A great chase was in progress, when sud- 
