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In Arizona 
Eating a. Mountain Lion—Trailing Termain 
and the Finding of his Claim—The 
People Eaters—Conclusion 
By j. w. 
Author of “My Life as an Indian,” "Life Among 
I T was decided that, while looking for Jim 
Termain and his bonanza find, we should 
ourselves do some prospecting. The first 
day we went out on foot and examined the 
country south of camp, seeing a number of 
mountain sheep and a few mule deer, but find¬ 
ing no trace of mineral other than some very 
ordinary looking iron ore. 
The next day we took the burros and a good 
supply of water, a little grub and a blanket or 
two, ai d went still further south, quite to the 
end of the range, where we camped two nights 
and carefully examined the country. It was so 
hot during the day time that it seemed as if the 
burros feet must actually fry while crossing 
long stretches of bare black lava. At night we 
shivered under our blankets when the cold gulf 
wind sprang up. It was a country of desola¬ 
tion ; a mountain range badly shattered by vol¬ 
canic activity, its black slopes streaked with 
washes of yellow sand. To the east and south 
and west other low black ranges sprawling on 
the level floor of the desert, like in shape to 
the gigantic creatures of the carboniferous age. 
It seemed as if nothing could exist in so barren 
a region, but there were sheep and deer and 
birds in good numbers, sure evidence of another 
tank. We did not look for it, but in following 
up a wash to prospect a ledge that in the dis¬ 
tance looked like porphyry, but was not, we 
stumbled upon it. 
This one was a bowl-like depression in the 
bottom of the wash and at the lower end a little 
moisture oozed over the bare rim rock. The 
howl itself was full of sand and gravel, the 
water level eight or ten inches below the sur¬ 
face, but that made no difference to the game; 
the animals pawed down in it until they uncov¬ 
ered a drinking place. Hereafter, when some 
desert man tells me that mountain sheep, deer 
and antelope live in regions where there is no 
water, that they get all the liquid they need by 
eating cactus, I shall listen patiently, but he will 
“have to show me.” 
A whole day spent in wandering around that 
lower end of the range was enough for us, and 
the next morning we returned to our main 
camp. The coyotes had got at the dried meat 
SCHULTZ 
the Blackfeet,” “Floating Down the Missouri,” etc. 
during our absence, but that did not worry us; 
we were really glad of it, for it gave us reason 
to kill some fresh meat. Leaving Old-Timer to 
follow us later with the burros, Sonora and I 
went up to the spring. Some quail and other 
birds and a few rabbits were around it; the sun 
was getting low; we sat down in the shadow 
of a big rock and waited for something worth 
while to appear. In less than ten minutes it 
came—a big mountain lion walking slowly and 
noiselessly down the wash, stopping often to 
look about him and listen, his long tail waving 
in wide sweeps, and again motionless except for 
a slight quivering of the tip. “You plug him,” 
Sonora whispered, and when at last the animal 
reached the spring and began to drink, I plunked 
him in the right place. He humped himself, 
made one half-hearted leap and lay still. 
‘‘Let's drag hint down wind here as quick as 
we can,” said Sonora, “ ’cause somethin’ worth 
while is bound to be showin’ itself any minute 
now.” 
I m satisfied with what we have, provided 
it s fat, I told him, and I had to laugh at the 
way he turned and stared at me. 
“You don’t mean to say that you eat them 
cats ?” 
1 hat s what, ’ I replied as we started. “They 
are sure fine meat. I found that out when I 
was a boy.” 
1 he lion proved to be a large female—so much 
the better—and very fat. We dragged it several 
hundred yards down the wash from the water 
and were about to butcher it when Old-Timer 
came along with the burros for their evening 
drink. Of a sudden they got wind of the ani¬ 
mal, and rearing and wheeling, they bolted. Old- 
1 inter was riding my treacherous little beast 
bareback. It not only bucked him off at the 
fust jump, but managed also to help him along 
with a vicious out thrust of its heels. He landed 
on his feet when he struck the sand but he had 
been gyrating through the air with such force 
that he could not stop at once, and down he sat 
with a mighty grunt. Naturally we laughed. 
He glared at us, unable to speak at first and 
shaking his fist. We discreetly turned our backs 
to him and began skinning the lion. In a few 
moments 01 d : Timer joined us. “Huh! no won 
der them burros bolted,” he exclaimed; “they’r 
sure afraid of sight or smell of a lion. Bti 
what you all skinnin’ it for? The hide ain’ 
much account in this hot country, an’ this tim 
o’ year it’s plumb worthless.” 
“We are goin’ to take the meat,” Sonora in 
formed him. “Pard, here, says it’s fine eatinV 
“So I’ve heard tell,” the old man growled con 
temptuously, “but no cats for me. Well, if then 
burros want a drink they know where the wate 
hole is. Lend me your rifle an’ I’ll go get somi 
meat.” 
As he took it and stalked stiffly up the wash 
Sonora gave me the wink and whispered: “Heh 
b’ilin’ mad about bein’ throwed by .that burro 
glad you didn't josh him about it. Heighho 
Well, well! We’re sure gettin’ old, him an 
me, an’ by gosh, you’re not so all-fired young 
yourself!” 
I wondered-how the average man feels whr 
has passed fifty years? If like me—truly ancient. 
But I have lived through a whole lot. I have 
seen in my time the plains and deserts criss¬ 
crossed by railroads and pretty well fenced in; : 
the game killed off and the remnant of the In¬ 
dians herded on to reservations to starve. And 
all that is enough to make a man feel old even 
if he is still able to wander around a bit. 
We skinned the lion and went to camp with 
the meat. Before long I heard Old-Timer shoot, 
and catching a burro and throwing a saddle on 
it. I rode out to help him with his kill. I soon 
found him butchering a two-year-old ram not 
far above the watering place. “I had my choice,’’ 
he told me; “a big blacktail buck or this little 
fellow out of a band of ewes an’ young. ’Course 
1 took this.” 
The next morning I tried out a little of the 
mountain lion's tallow, and then cutting a pan¬ 
ful of lion chops, I rolled them in cornmeal and 
fried them brown in the grease. Sonora watched 
me with interest, and catching the odor of the 
fryi ng meat, he sniffed appreciatively and ex¬ 
claimed: “It sure smells good. Let’s see now, 
what does it smell like? Why, like fresh pork.” 
“Huh!” was Old-Timer’s contemptuous ex¬ 
pression ; but he was on the windward side of the 
fire, and hence his prejudice was as yet unshaken. 
At last the meal was ready and we sat down 
to it, Old-Timer with a panful of fried sheep’s 
liver before him. Sonora speared a chop with 
his fork, smelled of it, placed it on his plate, 
cut off a large mouthful and began to eat. He 
nodded his head to me in approbation, and as 
soon as he could speak, exclaimed: “Yes, sir, 
an’ it tastes just like fresh pork. Well, well! 
just think what I’ve missed many’s the time in 
years back just because I didn’t know. Say, 
pard, try some.” 
“No, sir, no cat meat for me,” Old-Timer 
growled, busily munching liver. 
