ust under the
cedar where the depth was much greater he would never have come back.

"The hounds are choking with dust and heat," I said. When I poured
just a little water from my canteen into the crown of my hat, the
hounds began fighting around and over me and spilled the water.

"Behave, you coyotes!" I yelled. Either they were insulted or fully
realized the exigency of the situation, for each one came up and
gratefully lapped every drop of his portion.

"Shore, now comes the hell of it," said Jim appearing with a long
pole. "Packin' the critter out."

An argument arose in regard to the best way up the slope, and by
virtue of a majority we decided to try the direction Jim and I thought
best. My companions led the way, carrying the lioness suspended on the
pole. I brought up the rear, packing my rifle, camera, lasso, canteen
and a chain.

It was killing work. We had to rest every few steps. Often we would
fall. Jim laughed, Jones swore, and I groaned. Sometimes I had to drop
my things to help my companions. So we toiled wearily up the loose,
steep way.

"What's she shakin' like that for?" asked Jim suddenly.

Jones let down his end of the pole and turned quickly. Little tremors
quivered over the lissome body of the lioness.

"She's dying," cried Jim, jerking out the stick between her teeth and
slipping off the wire muzzle.

Her mouth opened and her frothy tongue lolled out. Jones pointed to
her quivering sides and then raised her eyelids. We saw the eyes
already glazing, solemnly fixed.

"She's gone," he said.

Very soon she lay inert and lifeless. Then we sat beside her without
a word, and we could hardly for the moment have been more stunned and
heartbroken if it had been the tragic death of one of our kind.
In that wild environment, obsessed by the desire to capture those
beautiful cats alive, the fateful ending of the successful chase was
felt out of all proportion.

"Shore she's dead," said Jim. "And wasn't she a beauty? What was
wrong?"

"The heat and lack of water," replied Jones. "She choked. What idiots
we were! Why didn't we think to give her a drink."

So we passionately protested against our want of fore-thought, and
looked again and again with the hope that she might come to. But death
had stilled the wild heart. We gave up presently, still did not move
on. We were exhausted, and all the while the hounds lay panting on the
rocks, the bees hummed, the flies buzzed. The red colors of the