grows
to a size of from six to nine feet in length, and weighs several hundred
pounds. It is variously known as a puma and panther, the latter name
sometimes being changed to "painter." When attacked, it is ofttimes
exceedingly savage, and on certain occasions has been known to kill a
man.

In Colorado the cougar is hunted almost exclusively with the aid of
hounds, and this was the method adopted on the present occasion. With
the pen of a true sportsman, Mr. Roosevelt tells us how the hounds were
held back until a cougar trail less than thirty-six hours old was
struck. Then off went the pack along the cliffs and ravines, with the
hunters following on horseback. The trail led up the mountain side and
then across the valley opposite, and soon the hounds were out of sight.
Leading their steeds, the hunters went down the valley and followed the
dogs, to find they had separated among the bare spots beyond. But soon
came a welcome sound.

"The cougar's treed," announced the guide. And so it proved. But when
the hunters came closer, the cougar, an old female, leaped from the
tree, outdistanced the dogs, and leaped into another tree. Then, as the
party again came up, the beast took another leap and started to run
once more. But now the hounds were too quick, and in a trice they had
the cougar surrounded. Slipping in, Theodore Roosevelt ended the
struggles of the wild beast by a knife-thrust behind the shoulder.

The next day there was another hunt, and this had rather a tinge of
sadness to it. The dogs tracked a mother cougar, who occupied her den
with her three kittens. The hounds rushed into the hole, barking
furiously, and presently one came out with a dead kitten in his mouth.

"I had supposed a cougar would defend her young to the last," says Mr.
Roosevelt, "but such was not the case in this instance. For some minutes
she kept the dogs at bay, but gradually gave ground, leaving her three
kittens." The dogs killed the kittens without loss of time, and then
followed the cougar as she fled from the other end of her hole. But the
hounds were too quick for her, and soon had her on the ground. Theodore
Roosevelt rushed up, knife in one hand and rifle in the other. With the
firearm he struck the beast in the jaws, and then ended the struggle by
a knife-thrust straight into the heart.

To many this may seem a cruel sport, and in a certain sense it assuredly
is; but my young readers must remember that cougars and other wild