by Zane Grey
“Lay low!” roared Hiram, above the tumult in the tent.
Promptly I pulled Ken with me behind a pine and peeped forth.
To make the din worse all the hounds began to bark furiously. Suddenly there came a violent shock from a heavy body plunging against the inside of the tent. It waved this way and that, then collapsed. From the agitated canvas came hoarse, smothered bellows. If I had not been so nonplussed I would have given up to laughter. But something was terribly wrong with the rangers. I saw a dark form roll from under the tent, rise and flee into the forest. Then another emerged from the other side. The yells ceased now, to be followed by loud cries of someone in pain.
With this Hiram ran forward. I saw him bend over, and then was astounded to see him straighten up and begin to haul away on something. But a gray, hounding object explained the mystery. Hiram was dragging one of the cougars back from the demolished tent.
“By George! Ken, one of the lions got loose,” I exclaimed, “and it must have run right into the rangers’ tent.”
“Great!” replied Ken Ward.
I jumped up and ran to help Hiram, but he had the cougar tied when I got to him. Even in the excitement I noticed that he was untying a lasso from the end of the chain. I looked at Hiram and he looked at me.
“Don’t say nothin’,” he whispered. “Somebody tied this rope in the chain, then pulled the cougar over to the rangers’ tent. I found the lasso tied to the tent-stake.”
“Whew! What’s come off?” I ejaculated. “Who did it?”
“How on earth he did it I can’t reckon, but I’ll bet it was thet tarnal boy.”
“Hal?.… Impossible, Hiram!”
“Wal, I reckon there ain’t much thet’s impossible fer Ken Ward’s brother.… Come on—somebody’s hurt—we can figure it out afterward.”
Jim appeared, and then two men emerged from the dark shadow of pines. One was Sells. Little was said on the moment. We lifted the tent and underneath we found the other ranger. If he had been as badly hurt as he was frightened I thought surely we would presently have a dead ranger on our hands. It turned out, however, that when we washed the blood from his face we found he had been badly scratched but not seriously injured. And as neither Sells nor the other ranger had been hurt the tension of the moment lessened, and Hiram particularly appeared greatly relieved.
“I woke up,” said Sells, “an’ seen thet durned cougar jump right in the tent. He was quicker’n lightnin’ an’ he began to leap at me. I dodged him, an’ yellin’ like mad I tried to git out. But every time I got near the tent door the cougar made at me an’ I hed to dodge. Then he got us all goin’, an’ there was no chance to do anythin’ but roll over an’ jump an’ duck. Pell throwed his gun an’ begin to shoot, an’ if the tent hedn’t fallen in he’d plugged one of us.… I jest knowed one of them cougars would rustle us last night.”
Plain it was that Sells had no suspicion of a trick. This relieved me. I glanced round for Hal, but he was not in sight and I supposed he had not rolled out of his blankets. Presently all was quiet again in camp, except that the lions were restless and clanked their chains. Sells and his companions had moved away some distance under the pines. Before I went to sleep again I told Ken what Hiram had said about Hal, and Ken replied: “Oh yes! I knew whatever it was Hal did it!”
“But Jim must have had a hand in it,” I declared. “How could Hal drag the lion, even if he had the nerve?”
“Dick, that boy could drag a rhinoceros around if by it he could get even with somebody who had mistreated him. You take my word—those rangers did something to Hal more than we know.”
“Well, whatever they did to him he’s square with them. Did you ever hear such yelling? They were scared wild.”
“Reminds me of the time Greaser and Herky-Jerky got mixed up with my bear-cub in the old cabin on Penetier. Only this was worse.”
We soon slept again, and owing to the break in our slumbers did not awaken until rather late. Sells and his rangers had decided they did not care so much after all to see Hiram tie up a lion, and with the rising of the sun they had departed.
“Shore it’s good riddance,” declared Jim.
“Where’s Hal?” asked Ken.
His question acquainted me with the fact that Hal was missing. At once Ken appeared troubled.
“Don’t worry, youngster,” assured Hiram. “Your brother will turn up presently.”
“Have you seen him this morning?”
“Nary a hair of him,” replied Hiram.
“Have you, Jim?”
“I shore hevn’t. An’ what’s more he wasn’t in bed when I got rustled out last night by thet infernal racket. An’ he didn’t come back.”
“Wal, now, thet’s new on me,” said Hiram, getting serious.
Ken began to pace up and down before the camp-fire. “If anything happens to Hal how can I ever lace my lather again?”
“See hyar, youngster. I reckon your father is a sensible man,” rejoined Hiram. “He knowed things was goin’ to happen to thet wild kid, an’ thet’s why he sent him with you. Hal will get his eye teeth cut out hyar. I calkilate it’ll be wise fer you to jest stop worryin’, an’ let things happen.”
“Shore, shore,” added Jim, earnestly.
“There’s a good deal of sense in what Hiram says,” I said. “No doubt Hal is hiding somewhere. And he’ll come in as soon as he finds out the rangers have gone.… Jim, weren’t you in that trick last night?”
“I shore wasn’t,” replied Jim, complacently. I knew then that it would be impossible ever to find out whether or not he had really aided Hal.
“Hiram, would it have been possible for Hal to pull off that lion stunt all by himself?” I inquired.
The old hunter looked thoughtful.
“Wal, it does seem onreasonable. But I ain’t doubtin’ it. The youngster is strong an’ a daredevil. Then he has watched me handlin’ the cougars. He’s a wonder on imitation, thet boy. It’s a fact thet a young cougar, arter he’s been tied up fer a day or so, will be kinder sluggish fer a little on bein’ dragged round agin. He’ll hang back, an’ not begin to jump an’ pull an’ fight till he’s waked up thoroughly. It’s quite possible, I reckon, thet Hal sneaked up to the tree, loosed the chain an’ tied a rope to it. Then he dragged the cougar over to the rangers’ tent, tied the rope to the tent-stake, an’ then—wal, I’m balked. How did he git the cougar into thet tent? He’ll hey to tell us.”
“It’s a wonder no one was killed,” said Ken.
“It shore is,” replied Jim.
“I wish he’d come in,” went on Ken. “Only—what’ll he do next?”
We got breakfast, ate it, and still Hal did not put in appearance. The Navajo came in, however, and that made us wonder how far he had been from the camp. Jim was of the opinion that Navvy had been so scared by the uproar that he had run till he dropped. I observed pine-needles thick in Navvy’s black hair, and knew he had slept somewhere under a pine.
Hiram went to feed the hounds and almost instantly I heard him exclaim: “Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!”
“What’s the matter, Hiram?”
“The pup’s gone, too. He didn’t break away. He’s been untied, that’s sartin. Fer I was per-tickler to fasten him tight. He’s been crazy to run off an’ trail somethin’. The youngster he’s took him.”
Ken marched over to where Hal kept his saddle and outfit. “He left his rifle and all the rest of his trappings.”
A sudden thought made me grow cold. “Hiram, mightn’t Sells have fooled us? Pretended he didn’t know the trick, and then got hold of Hal?.… Those Mormons wouldn’t think much of dropping him over the rim.”
“Oh! no!” cried Ken Ward.
Following that we all fell silent, and instinctively looked to the old hunter for help or assurance. But Hiram appeared much disturbed in mind. All at once a little shock went over his tall form, making him suddenly rigid.
“Listen!” he said.
I complied with all my ears,
but heard nothing except the wind in the pines and the hammering of a flicker on a dead branch.
“Shore—” began Jim.
Hiram held up a finger in warning.
“Listen—with the puffs of wind.”
Then followed a long listening silence. After what seemed an age I heard a faint yelp of a hound. It was so low that it was almost indistinguishable. Jim heard it, too, and at last Ken, as I could tell by their faces. We all remained silent, still held by Hiram’s uplifted finger.
“It’s the pup,” said Hiram, finally. “He’s way over to the west. I reckon he’s arter a coyote—or else he’s yelpin’ because somethin’s happened to—Now, fellers, I’ll make a bee-line fer whar I think he is. If I let out a string of yells you all come a-runnin’ with dogs an’ guns. If I yell onct head me off to your left. If twice, head me off to your right.”
With that he took up a rifle and strode rapidly off into the forest. Jim had nothing to say, and I did not look at Ken, for from Hiram’s unfinished speech it looked as if he feared an accident had befallen Hal.
We waited moments and moments. Once Ken imagined he heard a shout, and then Jim turned a doubtful ear to the west, but I assured them they were mistaken. Presently we were electrified by rapid yells far off in the forest, yet clear and ringing on the wind. Jim unchained the hounds and strung a rope through their collars while Ken and I gathered up guns and ropes. The Navajo was as excited as we were, and he followed us out of camp, but soon lagged behind. We ran across the level glades and through the brown aisles, and up and down the hollows.
Jim called a halt and pealed out a signal to Hiram. The answer came and again we ran. The hounds had become excited by this unusual proceeding; they barked and plunged to get away from Jim. Ken distanced us, and Jim yelled for him to wait. When we caught up with him once more Jim sent out a cry. This time Hiram’s answer proved we were traveling off to the right, so we sheered round and hurried on. Openings in the green-black wall of pines showed me that we were nearing the rim. The hollows grew deeper and had to be headed, which change of direction threw us out of line.
Jim’s next signal drew a stentorian blast from the old hunter, and that caused us to run with all we had left in us. Then at the end of a long aisle we saw Hiram waving to us and we had a mad race that Ken won by several rods.
I stopped, panting for breath, and surveyed the glade with quick eyes. At the same moment the pack of hounds burst into wild clamor. “There’s Hal!” shouted Ken, in a glad voice. I saw the lost lad sitting composedly on a log. Next I saw the pup. He was quite beside himself, yelping, leaping, and his nose pointed straight upward. Following the direction thus indicated I looked up in a short dead pine-tree to see a snarling lion.
CHAPTER XI
HIRAM CALLS ON KEN
The full wild chorus of the hounds mingled with our yells of exultation. Prince stood on his hind legs and pawed the air in his eagerness to get to the lion. Mux-Mux, the old war-dog, had as usual lost his reason.
When we had calmed down somewhat Hiram said: “It’s another two-year-old, an’ fair-sized. Fellars, thet’s the best tree fer our ropin’ purposes I ever seen a cougar in. Spread out now an’ surround him, an’ keep lively an’ noisy.”
When Hiram swung himself on the first stubby branch of the pine, the lion, some fifteen feet above, leaped to another limb, and the one he had left cracked, swayed, and broke. It fell directly upon Hiram, the blunt end striking his head and knocking him out of the tree. Fortunately, he landed on his feet; otherwise there would surely have been bones broken. He appeared stunned, and reeled so that Jim caught him. The blood poured from a wound in his head.
This sudden shock sobered us instantly. On examination we found a long, jagged cut in Hiram’s scalp. We bathed it with water from my canteen and with snow Jim procured from a near-by hollow, eventually stopping the bleeding. I insisted on Hiram coming to camp to have the wound properly dressed, and he insisted on having it bound with a bandanna.
“I reckon it doesn’t amount to much,” said Hiram. “But I’m a little dizzy, an’ better not climb any more.… Wal, youngster, hyar’s whar I call on you.”
He directed this last remark toward Ken. “What—what?” stammered Ken.
“I want you to go up an’ slip the rope over the cougar’s head. We’ll do the rest.”
Ken’s face went first red, then white. He gave a kind of eager gasp and a wild start at once. He stared at the old hunter and it was a full moment before his natural color returned.
“You want—me to rope him?”
“Sartinly. You are supple an’ quick, an’ with me to tell you what to do, the job can be done better’n if I went up arter him. Don’t be scared now, Ken. If he gits sassy up thar I’ll warn you in plenty of time.”
Without a word Ken took the lasso and began to climb the pine. Hal Ward stood as if petrified; only his eyes seemed alive, and they were wonderful to behold. I appreciated what the situation meant to the boy he had not believed Ken’s stories of an old hunter roping wild beasts, and here was Ken himself about to perform the miracle!
“Not so fast, youngster,” called Hiram. “Don’t crowd him. It’s hard to tell what move he’ll make next, an’ thar’s the danger.” The cougar changed his position, growled, spat, clawed the twigs, and kept the tree-trunk between him and Ken.
“Wait—he’s too close to the tree,” said Hiram. “You’ve got to chase him out on a limb. It’ll be best for you to git a little above him, Ken. Try an’ scare him. Break off a branch an’ throw at him.”
Ken was eighteen feet below the cougar, on the opposite side of the tree. He broke off a snag and thrashed and pounded; then throwing it he hit the beast square in the side. There was an explosion of spits and snarls and hisses.
“Thet’s the way,” yelled Hiram. “Make him think you’re goin’ to kill him. Go on up now, hurry! Don’t hesitate. He’ll back out on thet thick branch.”
It surely must have tried Ken’s nerve to obey the hunter. I thought that Ken could have been excused if he had not obeyed. But he climbed on and slowly the cougar backed out on the limb.
“Shore, Ken, you’re more at home in thet tree than the critter himself,” cried Jim.
And so it really appeared, for Ken’s movements were rapid and certain, his lithe, powerful form seemed to glide up between the branches without effort, and the lion was awkward and slow, plainly showing he feared he might fall.
“Thar, Ken, thet’ll do,” shouted Hiram, as Ken reached a point a little above the cougar. “Now you’re right. Make a noose, not too big, an’ sort of pitch it.… Try again, youngster, an’ be deliberate. You’re nervous. You’re perfectly safe, ’cause if he gits a notion to start fer you jest climb up farther. He’ll never foller you up.… Thar!… You ketched him thet time. Whoop!”
We all whooped, and I thought Jim Williams would stand on his head. He had come to exhibit the most extraordinary delight in the achievements of the lads.
“Draw the noose tight.… Jest pull easy-like, fer he’s bitin’ at the rope, an’ if you jerk too hard you’ll—Thar! I could hey done no better myself. Come down now.… No, don’t climb down. Slide down on the rope.”
Ken had not spoken a word since he had gone up the pine, and now he turned his tense white face down to us, and looked as if he had not heard aright.
“Slide down the rope,” yelled Hiram. “It’ll hold.”
With that Ken gave the lasso a strong pull and the lion braced himself. Then Ken stepped off the limb and slid down the lasso, hand over hand, while the lion held his weight with apparent ease. Ken was breathing hard and he had the expression of a man whom strong, thrilling excitement had carried through a deed the reality of which he scarcely appreciated.
“Make your noose ready,” yelled Hiram to Jim.
I had dropped my rope to help them pull the animal from his perch. The branches broke in a shower; then the lion, hissing, snarling, whirling, plunged down. He nearly jerked the rope out of our ha
nds, but we lowered him and then Hiram noosed his hind paws in a flash.
“Make fast your rope,” shouted he. “Thar, thet’s good! Now let him down—easy.”
As soon as the lion touched ground we let go the lasso, which whipped up and over the branch. He became a round, yellow, rapidly moving ball. Jim was the first to catch the loose lasso and he checked the rolling cougar. Hiram leaped to assist him and the two of them straightened out the struggling animal, while I swung another noose. On the second throw I caught a front paw.
“Pull hard! Stretch her out!” yelled Hiram. He grasped up a stout piece of wood and pushed it at the lion. He caught it in his mouth, making the splinters fly. Hiram shoved the head of the beast back on the ground and pressed his brawny knee on the bar of wood.
“The collar! The collar! Quick!” he called.
I threw the chain and collar to him, which in a moment he had buckled on.
“Thar, we’ve got him!” he said. “It’s only a short way over to camp, so we’ll drag him without muzzlin’.”
As he rose the lion lurched, and, reaching for him, fastened its fangs in his leg. Hiram roared. Jim and I yelled. And Ken, though frightened, was so obsessed with the idea of getting a picture that he began to fumble with the shutter of his camera.
“Grab the chain! Pull him off!” bawled Hiram.
I ran in and took up the chain with both hands, and tugged with all my might. Jim, too, had all his weight on a lasso. Between the two of us we choked the hold of the lion loose, but he tore Hiram’s leather legging. Then I dropped the chain and jumped.
“Hyar! Hyar!” exploded Hiram to Ken. “Do you think more of a picture than savin’ my life?” Having expressed this not unreasonable protest, he untied the lasso that Jim had made fast to a small sapling.
Then we three men, forming points of a triangle around an animated center, began a march through the forest that for variety of action and uproar beat any show I ever saw.
