by Zane Grey
“Don’t say we’ve lost them!” cried Ken. “Come on! The hounds are close.”
We burst through thickets, threaded the mazes of cedars, and galloped over sage flats till a signal cry, sharp to our right, turned us. I answered, and an exchange of signals led us into an open glade where we found Hiram, Jim, and Hal, but no sign of a hound.
“Hyar you are,” said Hiram. “Now hold up, an’ listen fer the hounds.”
With the labored breathing of the horses filling our ears we could hear no other sound. Dismounting, I went aside a little way and turned my ear to the breeze.
“I hear Prince,” I cried, instantly.
“Which way?” both men asked.
“West.”
“Strange,” said Hiram.
“Shore the hounds wouldn’t split?” asked Jim. “Prince leave thet hot trail? Not much. But he’s runnin’ queer this mornin’.”
“There! Now listen,” I put in. “There are Prince and another hound with a deep bay.”
“Thet’s Curley. I hear ’em now. They’re runnin’ to us, an’ hot. We might see a cougar any minnit. Keep a tight rein, youngsters. Mind a hoss is scan to death of a cougar.”
The baying came closer and closer. Our horses threw up their ears. Hal’s pinto stood up and snorted. The lad handled him well. Then at a quick cry from Jim we saw Prince cross the lower end of the flat.
There was no need to spur our mounts. The lifting of bridles served, and away we raced. Prince disappeared in a trice, then Curley, Mux, and Queen broke out of the cedars in full cry. They, too, were soon out of sight.
“Hounds runnin’ wild,” yelled Hiram.
The onslaught of the hunter and his charger stirred a fear in me that checked admiration. I saw the green of a low cedar-tree shake and split to let in the huge, gaunt horse with rider doubled over the saddle. Then came the crash of breaking brush and pounding of hoofs from the direction the hounds had taken. We strung out in the lane Hiram left and hung low over the pommels; and though we had his trail and followed it at only half his speed, yet the tearing and whipping we got from the cedar spikes were hard enough indeed.
A hundred rods within the forest we unexpectedly came upon Hiram, dismounted, searching the ground. Mux and Curley were with him, apparently at fault. Suddenly Mux left the little glade and, with a sullen, quick bark, disappeared under the trees. Curley sat on his haunches and yelped.
“Shore somethin’s wrong,” said Jim, tumbling out of his saddle. “Hiram, I see a lion track.”
“Here, fellows, I see one, and it’s not where you’re looking,” I added.
“Now what do you think I’m lookin’ fer if it ain’t tracks?” queried Hiram. “Hyar’s one cougar track, an’ thar’s another. Jump off, youngsters, an’ git a good look at ’em. Hyar’s the trail we were on, an’ thar’s the other, crossin’ at right angles. Both are fresh, one ain’t many minnits old. Prince an’ Queen hey split one way, an’ Mux another. Curley, wise old hound, hung fire an’ waited fer me. Whar on earth is Ringer? It ain’t like him to be lost when thar’s doin’s like this.”
“What next?” asked Jim, mounting.
“I’ll put Curley on the fresher trail,” replied Hiram. “An’ you all ought to be able to keep within hearin’ of him.… Thar! Curley.… Hi! Hi!”
Curley dashed off on the trail Mux had taken. Then began some hard riding. Hal and the pinto were directly in front of me, and I saw that the lad was having the ride of his life. Sometimes he ducked the cedar branches and again he was not quick enough. There were times when I thought he would be swept from his saddle, but he hung on while the pinto made a hole in the brush. More than once Hal lost his stirrup-footing. All the time that I watched him and turned to see if Ken was all right, I was getting a thrashing from the cedars. But I felt only the severest lashes. From time to time Hiram yelled. We managed to keep within earshot of Curley, and presently reached a canyon, which, judging by depth, must have been Middle Canyon. At that point it was a barrier to our progress, but fortunately Curley did not climb the opposite slope, so we followed the rim and gained on the hound. Soon we heard Mux. Curley had caught up with him. We came to a point where the canyon was not so deep and wider, and the slopes were less rugged. Curley bayed incessantly. Mux uttered harsh howls, and both hounds in plain sight began working in a circle. Hiram reined in his horse and leaped off, while the rest of us came to a halt.
“Off now, youngsters,” said Hiram, sharply. “Tie your hosses, tight. The cougar’s gone up somewhat. Run along the slope an’ look sharp in every cedar an’ piñon, an’ in every crevice of the cliffs.”
Hal jumped off, but did not tie his pinto, and he was white with excitement and panting heavily. Ken left his mustang and hurried along the ledge ahead of me. Every few steps he would stop to peer cautiously around. As if he had been struck, he suddenly straightened and his voice pealed out:
“The lion! The lion! Here he is! I see him!… Oh, hurry, Hal!”
I ran toward Ken, but could not see the lion. Then I stopped to watch Mux. He ran to the edge of a low wall of stone across the canyon; he looked over, and barked fiercely. When I saw him slide down a steep slope, make for the bottom of the stone wall, and jump into the branches of a cedar I knew where to look for the lion. Then I espied a round yellow ball cunningly curled up in a mass of branches. Probably the lion had leaped into the tree from the wall.
“Treed! Treed!” I yelled. “Mux has found him.”
Hiram appeared, crashing down a weathered slope.
“Hyar, everybody,” he bawled. “Hustle down an’ make a racket. We don’t want him to jump.”
CHAPTER VII
TWO LIONS
Hiram and Jim rolled down and fairly cracked the stones in their descent. I shouted for the boys to come on. Hal never moved a muscle, and Ken seemed chained to the spot. Hiram turned and saw them.
“Ho, youngsters, are you scared?” shouted he.
“Yes, but I’m coming,” replied Ken. Still he showed a strange vacillation. Overcome then by shame or anger, he plunged down the slope and did not halt till he was under the snarling lion.
“Back, Ken, back! You’re too close,” warned Hiram. “He might jump, an’ if he does don’t run, but drop flat. He’s a Tom, a two-year-old, an’ he’s sassy.”
“Don’t care—whether he—jumps or not,” panted Ken, bouncing about. “I’ve got to—be cured—of this—this—”
Whatever Ken had to be cured of he did not say, but I had no doubt that it was dread. I, myself, did not feel perfectly cool, by some dozens of degrees. The flaming eyes of the lion, his open mouth with its white fangs, his steady, hissing growls, the rippling of muscles as if it was his intention to leap at the hounds, were matters certainly not conducive to calmness.
“Will you—look at Mux!” shouted Ken.
The old hound had already climbed a third of the distance up to the lion.
“Hyar, Mux, you rascal coon-chaser!” yelled Hiram. “Out of thar!” He threw stones and sticks at the hound. Mux replied with his surly bark and steadily climbed on.
“I’ll hey to pull him out, or thart’ll be a dead hound in about a minnit,” said Hiram. “Watch close, Jim, an’ tell me if the cougar starts down. I can’t see through the thick branches. He’ll git mighty nervous jest before he starts.”
When Hiram mounted into the first branches of the cedar Tom emitted an ominous growl, and bunched himself into a ball, trembling all over.
“Shore he’s comin’,” yelled Jim.
The lion, snarling viciously, started to descend, and Hiram warily backed down. It was a ticklish moment for all of us, particularly Hiram; and as for me, what with keeping an eye on the lion and watching the boys, I had enough to do. Hal’s actions were singular; he would run down the slope, then run back, wave his arms and let out an Indian yell. His brother kept dodging to and fro as if he were on hot bricks. Never before had I seen such eyes as blazed in Ken Ward’s face. The lion went hack up the cedar, Mux climbed
laboriously on, and Hiram followed. “Fellars, mebbe he’s bluffin’,” said Hiram.
“Let’s try him out. Now all of you grab sticks an’ holler an’ run at the tree as if you was goin’ to kill him.”
The thrashing, yelling din we made under that cedar might have alarmed even an African lion. Tom shook all over, showed his white fangs, and climbed so far up that the branches he clung to swayed alarmingly.
“Here, punch Mux out,” said Jim, handing up a long pole.
The old hound hung to the tree, making it difficult to dislodge him, but at length Hiram punched him off. He fell heavily, whereupon, venting his thick battle-cry, he essayed to climb again.
“You old gladiator! Git down!” protested Hiram. “What in the tarnal dickens can we do with sich a dog? Tie him up, somebody.”
Jim seized Mux and made him fast to the lasso with which Curley had already been secured.
“Wal, fellers, I can’t reach him hyar. I’m goin’ farther up,” said the hunter.
“Rustle, now,” yelled Jim.
I saw that Hiram evidently had that in mind. He climbed quickly. It was enough to make even a man catch his breath to watch him, and I heard Ken gasping. Hiram reached the middle fork of the cedar, stood erect and extended the noose of his lasso on the point of his pole. Tom, with a hiss and a snap, savagely struck at it. A second trial tempted the lion to seize the rope with his teeth. In a flash Hiram withdrew the pole and lifted a loop of the slack noose over the lion’s ears. The other end of the lasso he threw down to Jim.
“Pull!” he yelled.
Jim threw all his weight into action, pulling the lion out with a crash, and giving the cedar such a tremendous shake that Hiram lost his footing. Grasping at branches and failing to hold, he fell, apparently right upon the lion. A whirling cloud of dust arose, out of which Hiram made prodigious leaps.
“Look out!” he bawled.
His actions, without words, would have been electrifying enough. As I ran to one side the lion just missed Hiram. Then with a spring that sent the stones rattling he made at Ken. The lad dove straight downhill into a thicket. When the furious lion turned on Jim, that worthy dropped the lasso and made tracks. Here the quick-witted Hiram seized the free end of the trailing lasso and tied it to a sapling. Then the wrestling lion disappeared in a thick cloud of dust.
“Dod gast the luck!” yelled Hiram, picking up Jim’s lasso. “I didn’t mean for you to pull him out of the tree. He’ll kill himself now or git loose.”
When the dust cleared away I discovered our prize stretched out at full length, frothing at the mouth. As Hiram approached, swinging the other lasso, the lion began a series of evolutions that made him resemble a wheel of yellow fur and dust. Then came a thud and he lay inert.
Hiram pounced upon him and loosened the lasso round his neck.
“I’m afraid he’s done fer. But mebbe not. They’re hard-lived critters. He’s breathin’ yet. Hyar, Leslie, help me tie his paws together.… Be watchful.”
As I came up the lion stirred and raised his head. Hiram ran the loop of the second lasso round the two hind paws and stretched Tom out. While in this helpless position, with no strength and scarcely any breath, he was easy to handle. With Jim and me attending strictly to orders Hiram clipped the sharp claws, tied the four paws together, took off the neck lasso and substituted a collar and chain.
“Let him breathe a little. He’s comin’ round all right,” said Hiram. “But we’re lucky. Jim, never pull another cougar clear out of a tree. Pull him off over a limb an’ hang him thar while someone below ropes his hind paws. Thet’s the only way, an’ if we don’t stick to it somebody’ll git chewed up.”
Ken appeared, all scratched and torn from his header into the thorny brake. As he gazed at our captive he whooped for Hal. The lad edged down the slope and approached us eagerly. He was absolutely unconscious that we were laughing at him. His face was in a flush, with brow moist and his telltale eyes protruding. Whatever the few thrilling moments had been to us, they must have been tame compared to what they had been to Hal.
“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 gr
asped 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!”
