by Grey, Zane
"Wal, youngster, whar were you when it came off?" inquired Hiram, with a smile.
"Have we got him--really?" whispered Hal. "Shore, Kid. He's a good cougar now," answered Jim.
"Come along an' watch me put on his muzzle," said Hiram.
Hiram's method of performing this part of his work was the most hazardous of all. He thrust a stick between Tom's open jaws, and when the lion crushed it into splinters he tried another and yet another, till he found one that did not break. Then, while Tom bit on it, Hiram placed a wire loop over the animal's nose, slowly tightening it till the stick would not slip forward of the great canine teeth.
"Thar, thet's one, ready to pack to camp. We'll leave him hyar an' hunt up Prince an' Queen. They've treed the other cougar by this time."
When Jim untied Mux and Curley it was remarkable to see what little interest they had in the now helpless lion. Mux growled, then followed Curley up the slope. We all climbed out and mounted our horses.
"Hear thet!" yelled Hiram. "Thar's Prince yelpin'. Hi! Hi! Hi!"
From the cedars across the ridge rang a thrilling chorus of bays. Hiram spurred his horse and we fell in behind him at a gallop. We leveled a lane of sage in that short race, and when Hiram leaped off at the edge of the impenetrable cedar forest we were close at his heels. He disappeared and Jim and Ken followed him. I heard them smashing the dead wood, and soon a deep yell mingled with shouts and the yelps of the hounds. I waited to tie Ken's mustang, and I had to perform a like office for Hal, whose hands trembled so he could not do it. He jerked his rifle out of his scabbard.
"No, no, Hal, you won't want that. Put it back. You might shoot somebody in the excitement. Come on. Keep your wits. You can climb or dodge as well as I."
Then I dragged him into the gloomy clump of cedars whence came the uproar. First I saw Ken in a tree, climbing fast; then Mux in another, and under him the other hounds with noses skyward; and last, up in the dead topmost branches, a big tawny lion.
"Whoop!" the yell leaped past my lips. Quiet Jim was yelling; Ken was splitting the air, and Hiram let out from his cavernous chest a booming roar that almost crowned ours.
I lifted and shoved Hal into a cedar, and then turned to the grim business of the moment. Hiram's first move was to pull Mux out of the tree.
"Hyar, Leslie, grab him; he's stronger'n a hoss."
If Mux had been only a little stronger he would have broken away from me. Jim ran a rope under the collar of all the hounds; there both of us pulled them from under the lion.
"It's got to be a slip-knot," said Jim, as we fumbled with the rope. "Shore if the cougar jumps we want to be able to free the hounds quick."
Then while Hiram climbed Jim and I waited. I saw Ken in the top of a cedar on a level with the lion. Hal hugged a branch and strained his gaze, and, judging from the look of him, his heart was in his throat. Hiram's gray hat went pushing up between the dead snags, then his burly shoulders. The quivering muscles of the lion grew tense, and his lithe body crouched low. He was about to jump. His dripping jaws, his wild eyes roving for some means of escape, his tufted tail swinging against the twigs and breaking them, manifested his terror and extremity. The hunter climbed on with a rope between his teeth and a long stick in his hand.
"Git ropes ready down thar!" yelled Hiram.
My rope was new and bothersome to handle. When I got it right with a noose ready I heard a cracking of branches. Looking up, I saw the lion biting hard at a rope which circled his neck. Jim ran directly under the tree with a spread noose in his hands. Then Hiram pulled and pulled, but the lion held firmly. Whereupon Hiram threw his end of the rope down to me.
"Thar, Leslie, lend a hand."
We both pulled with might and main; still the lion was too strong. Suddenly the branch broke, letting the lion fall, kicking frantically with all four paws. Jim grasped one of the lower paws and dexterously left the noose fast on it. But only by a hair's breadth did he dodge the other whipping paw.
"Let go, Leslie," yelled Hiram.
I complied, and the rope Hiram and I had held flew up over the branches as the lion fell, and then it dropped to the ground. Hiram, plunging out of the tree, made a flying snatch for the rope, got it and held fast.
"Stretch him out, Jim," roared Hiram. "An' Leslie, stand ready to put another rope on."
The action had been fast, but it was slow to what then began. It appeared impossible for two strong men, one of them a giant, to straighten out that wrestling lion. The dust flew, the sticks snapped, the gravel pattered against the cedars. Jim went to his knees, and Hiram's huge bulk bowed under the strain. Then Jim plowed the ground flat on his stomach. I ran to his assistance and took the rope which he now held by only one hand. He got up and together we lent our efforts, getting in a strong haul on the lion. Short as that moment was it enabled Hiram to make his lasso fast to a cedar. The three of us then stretched the beast from tree to tree, after which Hiram put a third lasso on the front paws.
"A whoppin' female," said Hiram, as our captive lay helpless with swelling sides and blazing eyes. "She's nearly eight feet from tip to tip, but not extra heavy. Females never git fat. Hand me another rope."
With four lassoes in position to suit Hiram the lioness could not move. Then he proceeded to tie her paws, clip her claws, muzzle and chain her.
"I reckon you squirrels can come down now," remarked Hiram, dryly, to the brothers. "See hyar, one of these days when we git split, thar'll be mebbe no one to help me but one of you youngsters. What then?"
To Hal and Ken, who had dropped out of their perches, the old hunter's speech evidently suggested something at once frightful and enthralling.
"Shore as you're born thet's goin' to happen,' added Jim, as he wiped the sweat and dust from his face.
"I never felt--so--before in my life," said Hal, tremulously. "My whole insides went like a crazy clock when you break a spring...Then I froze--scared stiff!"
His naive confession strengthened any already favorable impression.
Ken laughed. "Kid, didn't I say it was coming to you?"
Hal did not reply to this; he had shifted his attention to the hounds. Jim was loosing them from the rope. They had ceased yelping and I was curious to know how they would regard our captive.
Prince walked within three feet of the lioness, disdaining to notice her at all, and lay down. Curley wagged his tail; Queen began to lick her sore foot; Tan wearily stretched himself for a nap; only Mux, the incorrigible, retained antipathy for our bound captive, and he growled once low and deep, and rolled his bloodshot eyes at her as if to remind her it was he who had brought her to such a pass. And, on the instant, Ringer, lame and dusty from travel, trotted into the glade, and, looking at the lioness, he gave one disgusted grunt and flopped down.
Chapter VIII - IN CAMP
How should we get our captives to camp? This was the task which we faced next. We sent Ken back for the pack-horses. He was absent a long while, and when at length he hove in sight on the sage flat it was plain that we were in for trouble. Marc, the bay stallion, was on the rampage.
"Why didn't he fetch the Injun?" growled Hiram, who lost his temper only when things went wrong with the horses. "Spread out, boys, an' head him off."
We managed to surround the stallion and Hiram succeeded in getting a halter on him. Ken's face was red, his hair damp, and he looked as if he had spent an hour or two of trying responsibility.
"I didn't want the bay," he explained. "But I couldn't drive the others without him. And what do you think of this? When I told the Indian that we had two lions he ran off into the woods. Say! maybe I haven't had some bother with that stallion. I think riding him will be the only way to get him anywhere. That's what I'm going to do next time."
"Wal, first thing when we get to camp I'll scalp the redskin," said Jim.
"Youngster, you needn't be so flustrated," put in Hiram. "I reckon you did well to git Marc hyar at all."
As they talked they were standing on the open ridge at th
e entrance to the thick cedar forest. The two lions lay just within the shade. Hiram and Jim, using a pole, had carried our first captive, whom we had named Tom, up from the ca+-on to where we had tied the lioness.
Ken, as directed, had brought a pack-saddle and two long canvas sacks. When Hiram tried to lead the horse that carried these, the animal began to tremble and pull back.
"Somebody unbuckle the straps," yelled Hiram.
It was good luck that I got the sacks and saddle off, for in three jumps the horse broke from Hiram and plunged away across the sage flat.
"Shore he'll belong to the band of wild bosses," commented Jim.
I led up another horse and endeavored to hold him while Jim and Hiram got the pack-saddle on. It would have taken all three of us to hold him.
"They smell the lions," said Hiram. "I was afraid they would. Consarn the luck! Never had hut one nag thet would pack lions."
"Try the sorrel," I suggested. "He looks amiable."
For the first time in a serviceable life, according to Hiram, the sorrel broke his halter and kicked like a plantation mule.
"Shore they're scared," said Jim. "Marc ain't afraid. Try him."
Hiram gazed at Jim as if he had not heard aright.
"Go ahead, Hiram, try the stallion," I added. "I like the way he looks."
"Pack cougars on thet hoss!" exclaimed the astounded Hiram.
"Shore," replied Jim.
The big stallion looked a King of horses--just what he would have been if Purcell had not taken him when a colt from his wild desert brothers. He scented the lions, for he held his proud head up, his ears erect, and his lame dark eyes shone like fire.
"I'll try to lead him in an' let him see the cougars. We can't fool him," said Hiram.
Marc showed no hesitation, nor indeed anything we expected. He stood stiff-legged before the lions and looked as if he wanted to fight.
"Shore he'll pack them," declared Jim.
The pack-saddle being strapped on and the sacks hooked to the horns, Hiram and Jim, while I held the stallion, lifted Tom and shoved him down into the left sack. A madder lion than Tom never lived. It was hard enough to be lassoed and disgrace enough to be "hog-tied," as Jim put it, but to be thrust down into a bag and packed on a horse was more than any self-respecting lion could stand. Tom frothed at the mouth and seemed like a fizzing torpedo about to explode. The lioness, being considerably larger, was with difficulty gotten into the other sack, and her head and paws hung out.
"I look to see Marc bolt over the rim," said Hiram. "An' I promised Purcell to hey a care of this hoss."
Hiram's anxiety clouded his judgment, for he was wrong. Marc packed the lions to camp in short order, and as Jim said, "without turnin' a hair." We saw the Navajo's head protruding from behind a tree.
"Here, Navvy," I called.
Hiram and Jim yelled derisively, whereupon the black head vanished and did not reappear. Then they unhooked one of the sacks and dumped out the lioness. Hiram fastened her chain to a small pine-tree, and as she lay powerless he pulled out the stick back of her canines. This let the wire muzzle fall off. She welcomed so much freedom with a roar. The last action in releasing her from the bonds Hiram performed with much dexterity. He slipped the loop fastening one paw, which loosened the rope, and in a twinkling let her work the other paws free. Up she sprang, mouth wide, ears flat, and eyes ablaze.
Before the men lowered Tom from the packsaddle I stepped closer and put my lace within six inches of his. He promptly spat at me. I wanted to see the eyes of a wild lion at close range. They were beautiful. Great half-globes of tawny amber, streaked with delicate lines of black, surrounded pupils of purple fire.
"Boys, come here," I called to Ken and Hal. "Don't miss this chance. Bend close to the lion and look into his eyes."
Both boys jerked back as Tom spat and hissed, but presently they steeled their nerves and got close enough.
"There...What do you see?"
"Pictures!" exclaimed Ken.
"I want to let him go free," replied Hal, instantly.
It pleased me that the brothers saw in the eyes of the lion much the same that I had seen.
Pictures shone there and faded in the amber light--the shaggy-tipped plateau, the dark pines and smoky ca+-ons, the yellow cliffs and crags. Deep in these live pupils, changing, quickening with a thousand vibrations, quivered the soul of this savage beast, the wildest of all wild nature, unquenchable love of life and freedom and flame of defiance and hate.
Hiram disposed of Tom in the same manner he had the lioness, chaining him to an adjoining small pine, where he leaped and wrestled.
"Dick, look! There comes Jim with Navvy," said Ken.
I saw Jim leading and dragging the Indian into camp. I la sorry for Navvy, for I believed that his fear was not so much physical as spiritual. The lion, being a Navajo god, was an object of reverence to the Indian, and it seemed no wonder that Navvy hung back from the sacrilegious treatment of his god. Forced along by Jim, the Navajo dragged his feet and held his face sidewise. Jim drew him within fifteen feet and there held him, while Hiram tried to show and tell the poor fellow that the lions would not hurt him. Navvy stared and muttered to himself. Jim seemed to have some deviltry in mind, for he edged up closer, but just then Hiram pointed to the loose horses and said to the Indian:
"Chineago" (feed).
But no sooner had Jim released Navvy than he bolted, and the yells sent after him made him run only the faster.
"He'll come back when he gits hungry," said Hiram. "Ken, you drive the hosses down in the holler whar thar's good browse."
With an agile leap Ken swung up on the broad back of the stallion.
"Hyar, youngster, pile off thar!" called Hiram. "Wal, dog-gone me!"
It appeared that our great stallion had laid aside his noble disposition and was his old self once more. Before Ken had fairly gotten astride Marc dropped his head, humped his shoulders, brought his feet together and began to buck. It looked to me as if Marc was a tougher bucking proposition than the wildest broncho that ever romped the desert. For Marc was unusually robust and heavy, yet exceedingly active. I hac seen him roll over in the dust three times each way and do it easily, something I had never seer equaled by another horse.
Ken began to bounce. He twisted his strong hands in the mane of the stallion and held on. It was plain that Ken's blood was up. And all of us, seeing that it was now safer for him to keep his seat, began to give encouragement.
"Shore you're doin' fine," yelled Jim. But I fancied that Jim did not mean Ken was really doing well. Hiram's concern changed to mirth and he roared. It was as funny to see Hal as it was to see Ken. The younger lad was beside himself with excitement and glee. He ran around Marc and his shrill yells pealed out.
"Stay with him, Ken...Stick on...Hug him tight...Get a new hold...Look out!"
Then Marc became a demon. He plowed the ground. Apparently he bucked five feet straight up. Before Ken had bounced. Now he began to shoot up into the air. But the lad was powerful and his hold did not break easily. Higher and higher he rose, and then the last time his heels went over his head. He went up to the full extent of his arms, and when he came down heavily his hold broke. He spun around on the broad back of the stallion and went hurtling to the ground. The soft pine-needle mat saved him from injury and he sat up. "Jiminy!" he exclaimed, "no wonder Navvy didn't ride him."
When we recovered from our mirth Jim drawled out:
"Ken, thet was the best buckin' I ever seen a hoss do. Shore Marc could buck off a cinched saddle."
"Ken, I reckon you'll hey to knuckle to Marc," said Hiram, "an' you better ride your own hoss."
"Don't worry," replied Ken. "I know when I have got enough." He mounted his mustang and drove Marc and the other horses down into the hollow. When he returned we all saw Navvy sneaking into camp behind him. The Indian stopped at a near-by pine, but seeing that we appeared not to be concerned about him, he presently approached.
We all busied ourselv
es with camp-fire tasks, and I helped Ken feed the hounds. To feed ordinary dogs is a matter of throwing them a few bones; our dogs, however, were not ordinary. It took time to feed them and a prodigious amount of meat. We had packed a quantity of wild-horse meat which had been cut into small pieces and strung on the branches of a scrub-oak.
Prince had to be fed by hand. I heard Hiram say the hound would have starved if the meat had been thrown indiscriminately to the pack. Curley asserted his rights and preferred large portions at a time. Queen begged with solemn eyes, but for all her gentleness she could eat more than her share. Tan needed watching, and Ringer, because of imperfectly developed teeth, had to have his portion cut into small pieces. As for Mux-Mux--well, great dogs have their faults--he never got enough meat. He would fight poor crippled Queen, and steal even from the pups, and when he had gotten all that Ken would give him and all he could snatch, he would waddle away with bulging sides, looking like an old Dutch man-of-war.
"Will our lions eat?" asked Hal.
"Not for days," replied Hiram. "Mebbe we can tempt them to eat fresh rabbits in a week or so. But they'll drink to-night."
We made a hearty meal, and afterward Hiram and Ken and I walked through the woods toward the rim. A yellow promontory, huge and glistening, invited us westward, and after a detour of half a mile we reached it. The points of the rim, stretching out into the immense void, always drew me irresistibly. We found the view from this rock one of startling splendor. The corrugated rim-wall of the middle wing extended to the west, and at this moment apparently reached into the setting sun. The golden light, flashing from the millions of facets of chiseled stone, created color and brilliance too glorious and intense for the gaze of men. And looking downward was like looking into the placid, blue, bottomless depths of the Pacific.
"Here, help me push off this stone," I said. We heaved on a huge round stone, and were encouraged to feel it move. Fortunately we had a little slope; the boulder groaned, rocked and began to slide. Just as it toppled over I glanced at the second-hand of my watch. Then with eyes over the rim we waited. The silence was the silence of the ca+-on, dead and vast, intensified by our breathless ear-strain. Ten long, palpitating seconds and no sound! I gave up. The distance was too great for sound to reach us. Fifteen seconds--seventeen--eighteen--
