t, we'll skin him on our way
back."

Only dogged determination coupled with a sense of duty to the hounds
kept us on that trail. For the time being enthusiasm had been
submerged. But we had to follow the pack.

Jim, less weighted down and perhaps less discouraged, forged ahead up
and down. The sun had burned all the morning coolness out of the air.
I perspired and panted and began to grow weary. Jim's signal called me
to hurry. I took to a trot and came upon him and the hounds under a
small cedar. The lion stood among the dead branches. His sides where
shaking convulsively, and his short breaths could be plainly heard.
He had the most blazing eyes and most untamed expression of any wild
creature I have ever seen; and this amazed me considering I had kept
him on a crag for over an hour, and had come to look upon him as my
own.

"What'll we do, Jim, now that we have him treed?"

"Shore, we'll tie him up," declared Jim.

The lion stayed in the cedar long enough for me to photograph him
twice, then he leaped down again and took to his back trail. We
followed as fast as we could, soon to find that the hounds had put him
up another cedar. From this he jumped down among the dogs, scattered
them as if they had been so many leaves, and bounded up the slope out
of sight.

I laid aside my rifle and camera and tried to keep up with Jim. The
lion ran straight up the slope and treed again under the wall. Before
we covered half the distance he was on the go once more, flying down
in clouds of dust.

"Don is makin' him hump," said Jim.

And that alone was enough to spur us on. We would reward the noble
hound if we had the staying power. Don and his pack ran westward this
time, and along a mile of the beaten trail put him up two more trees.
But these we could not see and judged only by the sound.

[Illustration: A DRINK OF COLD GRANITE WATER UNDER THE RIM]

[Illustration: WHICH IS THE PIUTE?]

"Look there!" cried Jim. "Darn me if he ain't comin' right at us."

It was true. Ahead of us the lion appeared, loping wearily. We stopped
in our tracks undecided. Jim drew his revolver. Once or twice the lion
disappeared behind stones and cedars. When he sighted us he stopped,
looked back, then again turning toward us, he left the trail to plunge
down. He had barely got out of sight when old Don came pattering along
the trail; then Ranger leading the others. Don did not even put his
nose to the ground where the lion had switched,