they
listened patiently, for they were very fond of this grizzled old
traveler who had now been their companion for so long.

The third night the dogs appeared restless. They lay at the end of
their leashes growling and whipping their tails angrily.

"What is the matter with the dogs?" demanded Tad Butler.

"I think they must have fleas," decided Chunky wisely.

"No, it isn't fleas," said Dad, who had been observing them for the
past few minutes. "It's my opinion that there's game hereabouts."

"Deer?" questioned Ned.

"No. More likely it's something that is after the deer."

"Lions?" asked Tad.

"I reckon."

"Have you seen any signs of them?"

"What you might call a sign," Nance nodded. "I found, up in Mystic
Canyon this afternoon, all that was left of a deer. The lions had
killed it and stripped all the best flesh from the deer. So it's plain
enough that the cats are hanging around. I thought we'd come up with
some of them down here."

"Wow for the king of beasts!" shouted Chunky, throwing up his sombrero.

"Nothing like a king," retorted Jim Nance. "The mountain lion isn't
in any class with African lions. The lion hereabouts is only a part
as big. A king---this mountain lion of ours? You'd better call the
beast a dirty savage, and be satisfied with that."

"But we're going to go after some of them, aren't we?" asked Ned.

"Surely," nodded Nance.

"When?" pressed Walter.

"Is it safe?" the more prudent Professor Zepplin wanted to know.

"Safe?" repeated Jim Nance. "Well, when it comes to that, nothing down
in this country can be called exactly safe. All sorts of trouble can
be had around here for the asking. But I reckon that these young
gentlemen will know pretty well how to keep themselves reasonably
safe---all except Mr. Brown, who'll bear some watching."

Even long after they had turned in that night the boys kept on talking
about the coming hunts of the next few days. They fairly dreamed lions.
In the morning the hunt was the first thing they thought of as they ran
to wash up for breakfast. In the near distance could be heard the
baying of hounds, for Dad's dogs were no longer chained up.

"I let the dogs loose," Nance explained, noting the eager, questioning
glances. "The dogs have got track of something. Hustle your breakfasts!
We'll get away with speed."

Breakfast was disposed of in a hurry that morning. Then the boys
hustled to get ready for the day's sport. When