as good as exhausted by the long run, and, lest the animal
should spring out of the tree and escape, we circled it at a distance.
On catching a fair view of the quarry, Uncle Lance called for a carbine.
Two shots through the shoulders served to loosen the puma's footing,
when he came down by easy stages from limb to limb, spitting and hissing
defiance into the upturned faces of the pack. As he fell, we dashed in
to beat off the dogs as a matter of precaution, but the bullets had done
their work, and the pack mouthed the fallen feline with entire impunity.

Dan Happersett dragged the dead puma out with a rope over the neck for
the inspection of the girls, while our horses, which had had no less
than a fifty-mile ride, were unsaddled and allowed a roll and a half
hour's graze before starting back. As we were watering our mounts, I
caught my employer's ear long enough to repeat what I had learned about
Esther's home difficulties. After picketing our horses, we strolled away
from the remainder of the party, when Uncle Lance remarked: "Tom, your
chance has come where you must play your hand and play it boldly. I'll
keep Tony at the Vaux ranch, and if Esther has to go home to-night, why,
of course, you'll have to take her. There's your chance to run off and
marry. Now, Tom, you've never failed me yet; and this thing has gone far
enough. We'll give old lady McLeod good cause to hate us from now on.
I've got some money with me, and I'll rob the other boys, and to-night
you make a spoon or spoil a horn. Sabe?"

I understood and approved. As we jogged along homeward, Esther and I
fell to the rear, and I outlined my programme. Nor did she protest when
I suggested that to-night was the accepted time. Before we reached the
Vaux ranch every little detail was arranged. There was a splendid moon,
and after supper she plead the necessity of returning home. Meanwhile
every cent my friends possessed had been given me, and the two best
horses of Las Palomas were under saddle for the start. Uncle Lance was
arranging a big hunt for the morrow with Tony Hunter and Don Pierre,
when Esther took leave of her friends, only a few of whom were cognizant
of our intended elopement.

With fresh mounts under us, we soon covered the intervening distance
between the two ranches. I would gladly have waived touching at the
McLeod ranch, but Esther had torn her dress during the day and insisted
on a change, and I, of necessity, yielded. The corrals were at