, which looked
like leather overalls or heavy canvas. A belt carried a huge knife and a
number of shells of large caliber; the Winchester he had was exceedingly
long and heavy, and of an old pattern. The look of him brought back my
old fancy of Wetzel or Kit Carson.

"So I'm lost," I concluded, "and don't know what to do. I daren't try to
find the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet."

"An' why not, youngster? 'Pears to me you'd better make tracks from
Penetier."

I told him why, at which he laughed.

"Wal, I reckon you can stay with me fer a spell. My camp's in the head
of this canyon."

"Oh, thank you, that'll be fine!" I exclaimed. My great good luck filled
me with joy. "Do you stay on the mountain?"

"Be'n here goin' on eighteen years, youngster. Mebbe you've heerd my
name. Hiram Bent."

"Are you a hunter?"

"Wal, I reckon so, though I'm more a trapper. Here, you pack my gun."

With that he drew his knife and set to work on the deer. It was
wonderful to see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of the
hide and a powerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even less
work for the second. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, and
wiped his knife and hands on the grass.

"Come on, youngster," he said, starting up the canyon.

I showed him where the carcass of my deer had been devoured.

"Cougar. Thar's a big feller has the run of this canyon."

"Cougar? I thought it was a mountain-lion."

"Cougar, painter, panther, lion--all the same critter. An' if you leave
him alone he'll not bother you, but he's bad in a corner."

"He scared away the coyotes."

"Youngster, even a silver-tip--thet's a grizzly bear--will make tracks
away from a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over near
Springer. If I had them we'd put thet cougar up a tree in no time."

"Are there many lions--cougars here?"

"Only a few. Thet's why there's plenty of deer. Other game is plentiful,
too. Foxes, wolves, an', up in the mountains, bears are thick."

"Then I may get to see one--get a shot at one?"

"Wal, I reckon."

From that time I trod on air. I found myself wishing for my brother Hal.
I became reconciled to the loss of mustang and outfit. For a moment
I almost forgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important than
hunting. I had read a thousand books about old hunters and trappers,
and here I was in a wild mountain canyon with a hunter who might have
stepped out of one of my dreams.