The Last of the Plainsmen

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER 16.

  KITTY

  It seemed my eyelids had scarcely touched when Jones's exasperating,yet stimulating, yell aroused me. Day was breaking. The moon and starsshone with wan luster. A white, snowy frost silvered the forest. OldMoze had curled close beside me, and now he gazed at me reproachfullyand shivered. Lawson came hustling in with the horses. Jim busiedhimself around the campfire. My fingers nearly froze while I saddled myhorse.

  At five o'clock we were trotting up the slope of Buckskin, bound forthe section of ruined rim wall where we had encountered the conventionof cougars. Hoping to save time, we took a short cut, and were sooncrossing deep ravines.

  The sunrise coloring the purple curtain of cloud over the canyon wastoo much for me, and I lagged on a high ridge to watch it, thus fallingbehind my more practical companions. A far-off "Waa-hoo!" brought me toa realization of the day's stern duty and I hurried Satan forward onthe trail.

  I came suddenly upon our leader, leading his horse through the scrubpinyon on the edge of the canyon, and I knew at once something hadhappened, for he was closely scrutinizing the ground.

  "I declare this beats me all hollow!" began Jones. "We might be huntingrabbits instead of the wildest animals on the continent. We jumped abunch of lions in this clump of pinyon. There must have been at leastfour. I thought first we'd run upon an old lioness with cubs, but allthe trails were made by full-grown lions. Moze took one north along therim, same as the other day, but the lion got away quick. Frank saw onelion. Wallace is following Sounder down into the first hollow. Jim hasgone over the rim wall after Don. There you are! Four lions playing tagin broad daylight on top of this wall! I'm inclined to believe Clarkedidn't exaggerate. But confound the luck! the hounds have split again.They're doing their best, of course, and it's up to us to stay withthem. I'm afraid we'll lose some of them. Hello! I hear a signal.That's from Wallace. Waa-hoo! Waa-hoo! There he is, coming out of thehollow."

  The tall Californian reached us presently with Sounder beside him. Hereported that the hound had chased a lion into an impassable break. Wethen joined Frank on a jutting crag of the canyon wall.

  "Waa-hoo!" yelled Jones. There was no answer except the echo, and itrolled up out of the chasm with strange, hollow mockery.

  "Don took a cougar down this slide," said Frank. "I saw the brute, an'Don was makin' him hump. A--ha! There! Listen to thet!"

  From the green and yellow depths soared the faint yelp of a hound.

  "That's Don! that's Don!" cried Jones. "He's hot on something. Where'sSounder? Hyar, Sounder! By George! there he goes down the slide. Hearhim! He's opened up! Hi! Hi! Hi!"

  The deep, full mellow bay of the hound came ringing on the clear air.

  "Wallace, you go down. Frank and I will climb out on that pointed crag.Grey, you stay here. Then we'll have the slide between us. Listen andwatch!"

  From my promontory I watched Wallace go down with his gigantic strides,sending the rocks rolling and cracking; and then I saw Jones and Frankcrawl out to the end of a crumbling ruin of yellow wall whichthreatened to go splintering and thundering down into the abyss.

  I thought, as I listened to the penetrating voice of the hound, thatnowhere on earth could there be a grander scene for wild action, wildlife. My position afforded a commanding view over a hundred miles ofthe noblest and most sublime work of nature. The rim wall where I stoodsheered down a thousand feet, to meet a long wooded slope which cutabruptly off into another giant precipice; a second long slopedescended, and jumped off into what seemed the grave of the world. Moststriking in that vast void were the long, irregular points of rim wall,protruding into the Grand Canyon. From Point Sublime to the Pink Cliffsof Utah there were twelve of these colossal capes, miles apart, somesharp, some round, some blunt, all rugged and bold. The great chasm inthe middle was full of purple smoke. It seemed a mighty sepulcher fromwhich misty fumes rolled upward. The turrets, mesas, domes, parapetsand escarpments of yellow and red rock gave the appearance of anarchitectural work of giant hands. The wonderful river of silt, theblood-red, mystic and sullen Rio Colorado, lay hidden except in oneplace far away, where it glimmered wanly. Thousands of colors wereblended before my rapt gaze. Yellow predominated, as the walls andcrags lorded it over the lower cliffs and tables; red glared in thesunlight; green softened these two, and then purple and violet, gray,blue and the darker hues shaded away into dim and distinct obscurity.

  Excited yells from my companions on the other crag recalled me to theliving aspect of the scene. Jones was leaning far down in a niche, atseeming great hazard of life, yelling with all the power of his stronglungs. Frank stood still farther out on a cracked point that made metremble, and his yell reenforced Jones's. From far below rolled up achorus of thrilling bays and yelps, and Jim's call, faint, but distincton that wonderfully thin air, with its unmistakable note of warning.

  Then on the slide I saw a lion headed for the rim wall and climbingfast. I added my exultant cry to the medley, and I stretched my armswide to that illimitable void and gloried in a moment full to the brimof the tingling joy of existence. I did not consider how painful itmust have been to the toiling lion. It was only the spell of wildenvironment, of perilous yellow crags, of thin, dry air, of voice ofman and dog, of the stinging expectation of sharp action, of life.

  I watched the lion growing bigger and bigger. I saw Don and Sounder runfrom the pinyon into the open slide, and heard their impetuous burst ofwild yelps as they saw their game. Then Jones's clarion yell made mebound for my horse. I reached him, was about to mount, when Moze cametrotting toward me. I caught the old gladiator. When he heard thechorus from below, he plunged like a mad bull. With both arms round himI held on. I vowed never to let him get down that slide. He howled andtore, but I held on. My big black horse with ears laid back stood likea rock.

  I heard the pattering of little sliding rocks below; stealthy paddedfootsteps and hard panting breaths, almost like coughs; then the lionpassed out of the slide not twenty feet away. He saw us, and spranginto the pinyon scrub with the leap of a scared deer.

  Samson himself could no longer have held Moze. Away he darted with hissharp, angry bark. I flung myself upon Satan and rode out to see Jonesahead and Frank flashing through the green on the white horse.

  At the end of the pinyon thicket Satan overhauled Jones's bay, and weentered the open forest together. We saw Frank glinting across the darkpines.

  "Hi! Hi!" yelled the Colonel.

  No need was there to whip or spur those magnificent horses. They werefresh; the course was open, and smooth as a racetrack, and theimpelling chorus of the hounds was in full blast. I gave Satan a looserein, and he stayed neck and neck with the bay. There was not a log,nor a stone, nor a gully. The hollows grew wider and shallower as weraced along, and presently disappeared altogether. The lion was runningstraight from the canyon, and the certainty that he must sooner orlater take to a tree, brought from me a yell of irresistible wild joy.

  "Hi! Hi! Hi!" answered Jones.

  The whipping wind with its pine-scented fragrance, warm as the breathof summer, was intoxicating as wine. The huge pines, too kingly forclose communion with their kind, made wide arches under which thehorses stretched out long and low, with supple, springy, powerfulstrides. Frank's yell rang clear as a bell. We saw him curve to theright, and took his yell as a signal for us to cut across. Then webegan to close in on him, and to hear more distinctly the baying of thehounds.

  "Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" bawled Jones, and his great trumpet voice rolled downthe forest glades.

  "Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!" I screeched, in wild recognition of the spirit of themoment.

  Fast as they were flying, the bay and the black responded to our cries,and quickened, strained and lengthened under us till the trees sped byin blurs.

  There, plainly in sight ahead ran the hounds, Don leading, Soundernext, and Moze not fifty yards, behind a desperately running lion.

  There are all-satisfying moments of life. That chase through the openforest, under the stately pi
nes, with the wild, tawny quarry in plainsight, and the glad staccato yelps of the hounds filling my ears andswelling my heart, with the splendid action of my horse carrying me onthe wings of the wind, was glorious answer and fullness to the call andhunger of a hunter's blood.

  But as such moments must be, they were brief. The lion leapedgracefully into the air, splintering the bark from a pine fifteen feetup, and crouched on a limb. The hounds tore madly round the tree.

  "Full-grown female," said Jones calmly, as we dismounted, "and she'sours. We'll call her Kitty."

  Kitty was a beautiful creature, long, slender, glossy, with white bellyand black-tipped ears and tail. She did not resemble the heavy,grim-faced brute that always hung in the air of my dreams. A low,brooding menacing murmur, that was not a snarl nor a growl, came fromher. She watched the dogs with bright, steady eyes, and never so muchas looked at us.

  The dogs were worth attention, even from us, who certainly did not needto regard them from her personally hostile point of view. Don stoodstraight up, with his forepaws beating the air; he walked on his hindlegs like the trained dog in the circus; he yelped continuously, as ifit agonized him to see the lion safe out of his reach. Sounder had losthis identity. Joy had unhinged his mind and had made him a dog ofdouble personality. He had always been unsocial with me, neverresponding to my attempts to caress him, but now he leaped into my armsand licked my face. He had always hated Jones till that moment, when heraised his paws to his master's breast. And perhaps more remarkable,time and time again he sprang up at Satan's nose, whether to bite himor kiss him, I could not tell. Then old Moze, he of Grand Canyon fame,made the delirious antics of his canine fellows look cheap. There was asmall, dead pine that had fallen against a drooping branch of the treeKitty had taken refuge in, and up this narrow ladder Moze began toclimb. He was fifteen feet up, and Kitty had begun to shift uneasily,when Jones saw him.

  "Hyar! you wild coon hyar! Git out of that! Come down! Come down!"

  But Jones might have been in the bottom of the canyon for all Mozeheard or cared. Jones removed his coat, carefully coiled his lasso, andbegan to go hand and knee up the leaning pine.

  "Hyar! dad-blast you, git down!" yelled Jones, and he kicked Moze off.The persistent hound returned, and followed Jones to a height of twentyfeet, where again he was thrust off.

  "Hold him, one of you!" called Jones.

  "Not me," said Frank, "I'm lookin' out for myself."

  "Same here," I cried, with a camera in one hand and a rifle inthe other. "Let Moze climb if he likes."

  Climb he did, to be kicked off again. But he went back. It was a way hehad. Jones at last recognized either his own waste of time or Moze'sgreatness, for he desisted, allowing the hound to keep close after him.

  The cougar, becoming uneasy, stood up, reached for another limb,climbed out upon it, and peering down, spat hissingly at Jones. But hekept steadily on with Moze close on his heels. I snapped my camera onthem when Kitty was not more than fifteen feet above them. As Jonesreached the snag which upheld the leaning tree, she ran out on herbranch, and leaped into an adjoining pine. It was a good long jump, andthe weight of the animal bent the limb alarmingly.

  Jones backed down, and laboriously began to climb the other tree. Asthere were no branches low down, he had to hug the trunk with arms andlegs as a boy climbs. His lasso hampered his progress. When the slowascent was accomplished up to the first branch, Kitty leaped back intoher first perch. Strange to say Jones did not grumble; none of hischaracteristic impatience manifested itself. I supposed with him allthe exasperating waits, vexatious obstacles, were little thingspreliminary to the real work, to which he had now come. He was calm anddeliberate, and slid down the pine, walked back to the leaning tree,and while resting a moment, shook his lasso at Kitty. This actionfitted him, somehow; it was so compatible with his grim assurance.

  To me, and to Frank, also, for that matter, it was all new andstartling, and we were as excited as the dogs. We kept continuallymoving about, Frank mounted, and I afoot, to get good views of thecougar. When she crouched as if to leap, it was almost impossible toremain under the tree, and we kept moving.

  Once more Jones crept up on hands and knees. Moze walked the slantingpine like a rope performer. Kitty began to grow restless. This time sheshowed both anger and impatience, but did not yet appear frightened.She growled low and deep, opened her mouth and hissed, and swung hertufted tail faster and faster.

  "Look out, Jones! look out!" yelled Frank warningly.

  Jones, who had reached the trunk of the tree, halted and slipped roundit, placing it between him and Kitty. She had advanced on her limb, afew feet above Jones, and threateningly hung over.

  Jones backed down a little till she crossed to another branch, then heresumed his former position.

  "Watch below," called he.

  Hardly any doubt was there as to how we watched. Frank and I were alleyes, except very high and throbbing hearts. When Jones thrashed thelasso at Kitty we both yelled. She ran out on the branch and jumped.This time she fell short of her point, clutched a dead snag, whichbroke, letting her through a bushy branch from where she hung headdownward. For a second she swung free, then reaching toward the treecaught it with front paws, ran down like a squirrel, and leaped offwhen thirty feet from the ground. The action was as rapid as it wasastonishing.

  Like a yellow rubber ball she bounded up, and fled with the yelpinghounds at her heels. The chase was short. At the end of a hundred yardsMoze caught up with her and nipped her. She whirled with savagesuddenness, and lunged at Moze, but he cunningly eluded the viciouspaws. Then she sought safety in another pine.

  Frank, who was as quick as the hounds, almost rode them down in hiseagerness. While Jones descended from his perch, I led the two horsesdown the forest.

  This time the cougar was well out on a low spreading branch. Jonesconceived the idea of raising the loop of his lasso on a long pole, butas no pole of sufficient length could be found, he tried from the backof his horse. The bay walked forward well enough; when, however, he gotunder the beast and heard her growl, he reared and almost threw Jones.Frank's horse could not be persuaded to go near the tree. Satan evincedno fear of the cougar, and without flinching carried Jones directlybeneath the limb and stood with ears back and forelegs stiff.

  "Look at that! look at that!" cried Jones, as the wary cougar pawed theloop aside. Three successive times did Jones have the lasso just readyto drop over her neck, when she flashed a yellow paw and knocked thenoose awry. Then she leaped far out over the waiting dogs, struck theground with a light, sharp thud, and began to run with the speed of adeer. Frank's cowboy training now stood us in good stead. He was offlike a shot and turned the cougar from the direction of the canyon.Jones lost not a moment in pursuit, and I, left with Jones's badlyfrightened bay, got going in time to see the race, but not to assist.For several hundred yards Kitty made the hounds appear slow. Don, beingswiftest, gained on her steadily toward the close of the dash, andpresently was running under her upraised tail. On the next jump henipped her. She turned and sent him reeling. Sounder came flying up tobite her flank, and at the same moment fierce old Moze closed in onher. The next instant a struggling mass whirled on the ground. Jonesand Frank, yelling like demons, almost rode over it. The cougar brokefrom her assailants, and dashing away leaped on the first tree. It wasa half-dead pine with short snags low down and a big branch extendingout over a ravine.

  "I think we can hold her now," said Jones. The tree proved to be a mostdifficult one to climb. Jones made several ineffectual attempts beforehe reached the first limb, which broke, giving him a hard fall. Thiscalmed me enough to make me take notice of Jones's condition. He waswet with sweat and covered with the black pitch from the pines; hisshirt was slit down the arm, and there was blood on his temple and hishand. The next attempt began by placing a good-sized log against thetree, and proved to be the necessary help. Jones got hold of the secondlimb and pulled himself up.

  As he kept on, Kitty crouched low as if to s
pring upon him. Again Frankand I sent warning calls to him, but he paid no attention to us or tothe cougar, and continued to climb. This worried Kitty as much as itdid us. She began to move on the snags, stepping from one to the other,every moment snarling at Jones, and then she crawled up. The big branchevidently took her eye. She tried several times to climb up to it, butsmall snags close together made her distrustful. She walked uneasilyout upon two limbs, and as they bent with her weight she hurried back.Twice she did this, each time looking up, showing her desire to leap tothe big branch. Her distress became plainly evident; a child could haveseen that she feared she would fall. At length, in desperation, shespat at Jones, then ran out and leaped. She all but missed the branch,but succeeded in holding to it and swinging to safety. Then she turnedto her tormentor, and gave utterance to most savage sounds. As she didnot intimidate her pursuer, she retreated out on the branch, whichsloped down at a deep angle, and crouched on a network of small limbs.

  When Jones had worked up a little farther, he commanded a splendidposition for his operations. Kitty was somewhat below him in adesirable place, yet the branch she was on joined the tree considerablyabove his head. Jones cast his lasso. It caught on a snag. Throw afterthrow he made with like result. He recoiled and recast nineteen times,to my count, when Frank made a suggestion.

  "Rope those dead snags an' break them off."

  This practical idea Jones soon carried out, which left him a clearpath. The next fling of the lariat caused the cougar angrily to shakeher head. Again Jones sent the noose flying. She pulled it off her backand bit it savagely.

  Though very much excited, I tried hard to keep sharp, keen facultiesalert so as not to miss a single detail of the thrilling scene. But Imust have failed, for all of a sudden I saw how Jones was standing inthe tree, something I had not before appreciated. He had one hand hold,which he could not use while recoiling the lasso, and his feet restedupon a precariously frail-appearing, dead snag. He made eleven casts ofthe lasso, all of which bothered Kitty, but did not catch her. Thetwelfth caught her front paw. Jones jerked so quickly and hard that healmost lost his balance, and he pulled the noose off. Patiently herecoiled the lasso.

  "That's what I want. If I can get her front paw she's ours. My idea isto pull her off the limb, let her hang there, and then lasso her hindlegs."

  Another cast, the unlucky thirteenth, settled the loop perfectly roundher neck. She chewed on the rope with her front teeth and appeared tohave difficulty in holding it.

  "Easy! Easy! Ooze thet rope! Easy!" yelled the cowboy.

  Cautiously Jones took up the slack and slowly tightened the nose, thenwith a quick jerk, fastened it close round her neck.

  We heralded this achievement with yells of triumph that made the forestring.

  Our triumph was short-lived. Jones had hardly moved when the cougarshot straight out into the air. The lasso caught on a branch, haulingher up short, and there she hung in mid-air, writhing, struggling andgiving utterance to sounds terribly human. For several seconds sheswung, slowly descending, in which frenzied time I, with ruling passionuppermost, endeavored to snap a picture of her.

  The unintelligible commands Jones was yelling to Frank and me ceasedsuddenly with a sharp crack of breaking wood. Then crash! Jones fellout of the tree. The lasso streaked up, ran over the limb, while thecougar dropped pell-mell into the bunch of waiting, howling dogs.

  The next few moments it was impossible for me to distinguish whatactually transpired. A great flutter of leaves whirled round a swiftlychanging ball of brown and black and yellow, from which came a fiendishclamor.

  Then I saw Jones plunge down the ravine and bounce here and there inmad efforts to catch the whipping lasso. He was roaring in a way thatmade all his former yells merely whispers. Starting to run, I trippedon a root, fell prone on my face into the ravine, and rolled over andover until I brought up with a bump against a rock.

  What a tableau rivited my gaze! It staggered me so I did not think ofmy camera. I stood transfixed not fifteen feet from the cougar. She saton her haunches with body well drawn back by the taut lasso to whichJones held tightly. Don was standing up with her, upheld by the hookedclaws in his head. The cougar had her paws outstretched; her mouth openwide, showing long, cruel, white fangs; she was trying to pull the headof the dog to her. Don held back with all his power, and so did Jones.Moze and Sounder were tussling round her body. Suddenly both ears ofthe dog pulled out, slit into ribbons. Don had never uttered a sound,and once free, he made at her again with open jaws. One blow sent himreeling and stunned. Then began again that wrestling whirl.

  "Beat off the dogs! Beat off the dogs!" roared Jones. "She'll killthem! She'll kill them!"

  Frank and I seized clubs and ran in upon the confused furry mass,forgetful of peril to ourselves. In the wild contagion of such a savagemoment the minds of men revert wholly to primitive instincts. We swungour clubs and yelled; we fought all over the bottom of the ravine,crashing through the bushes, over logs and stones. I actually felt thesoft fur of the cougar at one fleeting instant. The dogs had thestrength born of insane fighting spirit. At last we pulled them towhere Don lay, half-stunned, and with an arm tight round each, I heldthem while Frank turned to help Jones.

  The disheveled Jones, bloody, grim as death, his heavy jaw locked,stood holding to the lasso. The cougar, her sides shaking with short,quick pants, crouched low on the ground with eyes of purple fire.

  "For God's sake, get a half-hitch on the saplin'!" called the cowboy.

  His quick grasp of the situation averted a tragedy. Jones was nearlyexhausted, even as he was beyond thinking for himself or giving up. Thecougar sprang, a yellow, frightful flash. Even as she was in the air,Jones took a quick step to one side and dodged as he threw his lassoround the sapling. She missed him, but one alarmingly outstretched pawgrazed his shoulder. A twist of Jones's big hand fastened thelasso--and Kitty was a prisoner. While she fought, rolled, twisted,bounded, whirled, writhed with hissing, snarling fury, Jones satmopping the sweat and blood from his face.

  Kitty's efforts were futile; she began to weaken from the choking.Jones took another rope, and tightening a noose around her back paws,which he lassoed as she rolled over, he stretched her out. She began tocontract her supple body, gave a savage, convulsive spring, whichpulled Jones flat on the ground, then the terrible wrestling startedagain. The lasso slipped over her back paws. She leaped the wholelength of the other lasso. Jones caught it and fastened it moresecurely; but this precaution proved unnecessary, for she suddenly sankdown either exhausted or choked, and gasped with her tongue hangingout. Frank slipped the second noose over her back paws, and Jones didlikewise with a third lasso over her right front paw. These lassoesJones tied to different saplings.

  "Now you are a good Kitty," said Jones, kneeling by her. He took a pairof clippers from his hip pocket, and grasping a paw in his powerfulfist he calmly clipped the points of the dangerous claws. This done, hecalled to me to get the collar and chain that were tied to his saddle.I procured them and hurried back. Then the old buffalo hunter loosenedthe lasso which was round her neck, and as soon as she could move herhead, he teased her to bite a club. She broke two good sticks with hersharp teeth, but the third, being solid, did not break. While she waschewing it Jones forced her head back and placed his heavy knee on theclub. In a twinkling he had strapped the collar round her neck. Thechain he made fast to the sapling. After removing the club from hermouth he placed his knee on her neck, and while her head was in thishelpless position he dexterously slipped a loop of thick copper wireover her nose, pushed it back and twisted it tight Following this, alldone with speed and precision, he took from his pocket a piece of steelrod, perhaps one-quarter of an inch thick, and five inches long. Hepushed this between Kitty's jaws, just back of her great white fangs,and in front of the copper wire. She had been shorn of her sharpweapons; she was muzzled, bound, helpless, an object to pity.

  Lastly Jones removed the three lassoes. Kitty slowly gathered herlissom body in a ball and lay
panting, with the same brave wildfire inher eyes. Jones stroked her black-tipped ears and ran his hand down herglossy fur. All the time he had kept up a low monotone, talking to herin the strange language he used toward animals. Then he rose to hisfeet.

  "We'll go back to camp now, and get a pack, saddle and horse," he said."She'll be safe here. We'll rope her again, tie her up, throw her overa pack-saddle, and take her to camp."

  To my utter bewilderment the hounds suddenly commenced fighting amongthemselves. Of all the vicious bloody dog-fights I ever saw that wasthe worst. I began to belabor them with a club, and Frank sprang to myassistance. Beating had no apparent effect. We broke a dozen sticks,and then Frank grappled with Moze and I with Sounder. Don kept onfighting either one till Jones secured him. Then we all took a rest,panting and weary.

  "What's it mean?" I ejaculated, appealing to Jones.

  "Jealous, that's all. Jealous over the lion."

  We all remained seated, men and hounds, a sweaty, dirty, bloody, raggedgroup. I discovered I was sorry for Kitty. I forgot all the carcassesof deer and horses, the brutality of this species of cat; and evenforgot the grim, snarling yellow devil that had leaped at me. Kitty wasbeautiful and helpless. How brave she was, too! No sign of fear shonein her wonderful eyes, only hate, defiance, watchfulness.

  On the ride back to camp Jones expressed himself thus: "How happy I amthat I can keep this lion and the others we are going to capture, formy own. When I was in the Yellowstone Park I did not get to keep one ofthe many I captured. The military officials took them from me."

  When we reached camp Lawson was absent, but fortunately Old Baldybrowsed near at hand, and was easily caught. Frank said he would rathertake Old Baldy for the cougar than any other horse we had. Leaving mein camp, he and Jones rode off to fetch Kitty.

  About five o'clock they came trotting up through the forest with Jim,who had fallen in with them on the way. Old Baldy had remained true tohis fame--nothing, not even a cougar bothered him. Kitty, evidently noworse for her experience, was chained to a pine tree about fifty feetfrom the campfire.

  Wallace came riding wearily in, and when he saw the captive, he greetedus with an exultant yell. He got there just in time to see the firstspecial features of Kitty's captivity. The hounds surrounded her, andcould not be called off. We had to beat them. Whereupon the six jealouscanines fell to fighting among themselves, and fought so savagely as tobe deaf to our cries and insensible to blows. They had to be torn apartand chained.

  About six o'clock Lawson loped in with the horses. Of course he did notknow we had a cougar, and no one seemed interested enough to informhim. Perhaps only Frank and I thought of it; but I saw a merry snap inFrank's eyes, and kept silent. Kitty had hidden behind the pine tree.Lawson, astride Jones' pack horse, a crochety animal, reined in justabreast of the tree, and leisurely threw his leg over the saddle. Kittyleaped out to the extent of her chain, and fairly exploded in afrightful cat-spit.

  Lawson had stated some time before that he was afraid of cougars, whichwas a weakness he need not have divulged in view of what happened. Thehorse plunged, throwing him ten feet, and snorting in terror, stampededwith the rest of the bunch and disappeared among the pines.

  "Why the hell didn't you tell a feller?" reproachfully growled theArizonian. Frank and Jim held each other upright, and the rest of usgave way to as hearty if not as violent mirth.

  We had a gay supper, during which Kitty sat her pine and watched ourevery movement.

  "We'll rest up for a day or two," said Jones "Things have commenced tocome our way. If I'm not mistaken we'll bring an old Tom alive intocamp. But it would never do for us to get a big Tom in the fix we hadKitty to-day. You see, I wanted to lasso her front paw, pull her offthe limb, tie my end of the lasso to the tree, and while she hung I'dgo down and rope her hind paws. It all went wrong to-day, and was astough a job as I ever handled."

  Not until late next morning did Lawson corral all the horses. That daywe lounged in camp mending broken bridles, saddles, stirrups, lassoes,boots, trousers, leggins, shirts and even broken skins.

  During this time I found Kitty a most interesting study. She remindedme of an enormous yellow kitten. She did not appear wild or untameduntil approached. Then she slowly sank down, laid back her ears, openedher mouth and hissed and spat, at the same time throwing both paws outviciously. Kitty may have rested, but did not sleep. At times shefought her chain, tugging and straining at it, and trying to bite itthrough. Everything in reach she clawed, particularly the bark of thetree. Once she tried to hang herself by leaping over a low limb. Whenany one walked by her she crouched low, evidently imagining herselfunseen. If one of us walked toward her, or looked at her, she did notcrouch. At other times, noticeably when no one was near, she would rollon her back and extend all four paws in the air. Her actions werebeautiful, soft, noiseless, quick and subtle.

  The day passed, as all days pass in camp, swiftly and pleasantly, andtwilight stole down upon us round the ruddy fire. The wind roared inthe pines and lulled to repose; the lonesome, friendly coyote barked;the bells on the hobbled horses jingled sweetly; the great watch starsblinked out of the blue.

  The red glow of the burning logs lighted up Jones's calm, cold face.Tranquil, unalterable and peaceful it seemed; yet beneath the peace Ithought I saw a suggestion of wild restraint, of mystery, of unslakedlife.

  Strangely enough, his next words confirmed my last thought.

  "For forty years I've had an ambition. It's to get possession of anisland in the Pacific, somewhere between Vancouver and Alaska, and thengo to Siberia and capture a lot of Russian sables. I'd put them on theisland and cross them with our silver foxes. I'm going to try it nextyear if I can find the time."

  The ruling passion and character determine our lives. Jones wassixty-three years old, yet the thing that had ruled and absorbed hismind was still as strong as the longing for freedom in Kitty's wildheart.

  Hours after I had crawled into my sleeping-bag, in the silence of nightI heard her working to get free. In darkness she was most active,restless, intense. I heard the clink of her chain, the crack of herteeth, the scrape of her claws. How tireless she was. I recalled thewistful light in her eyes that saw, no doubt, far beyond the campfireto the yellow crags, to the great downward slopes, to freedom. Islipped my elbow out of the bag and raised myself. Dark shadows werehovering under the pines. I saw Kitty's eyes gleam like sparks, and Iseemed to see in them the hate, the fear, the terror she had of theclanking thing that bound her!

  I shivered, perhaps from the cold night wind which moaned through thepines; I saw the stars glittering pale and far off, and under their wanlight the still, set face of Jones, and blanketed forms of my othercompanions.

  The last thing I remembered before dropping into dreamless slumber washearing a bell tinkle in the forest, which I recognized as the one Ihad placed on Satan.