t he would have opportunity to use it. This
was where the fat boy made another serious mistake. A hunter should
never be beyond reaching distance of his gun when out on the trail
for game. It is a mistake that has cost some men their lives, others
the loss of much coveted game.

Choosing a low, bushy pinyon tree as best suited to the purposes of a
lazy climber, Stacy climbed it, grunting and grumbling unintelligibly.
He had hopes that he might discover something worth while, something
that would distinguish him from his fellows on that particular day.

"I feel as if something were going to happen," he confided to the tree,
seating himself in a crotch formed by a limb extending out from the
main body of the tree, then parting the foliage for a better view.
"It's funny how a fellow feels about these things some times. Hello,
there, I actually believe those are deer running yonder. Or maybe
they're cows," added Stacy. "Anyhow I couldn't shoot them, whichever
they are, so I won't get excited over them."

Chunky fixed his eyes on the opposite side of the tree a little above
where he was perched.

"I thought I saw something move there. Hello, I hear the hounds again.
They've surely gotten on track of something. And-----"

Once more the fat boy paused. He saw something yellow lying along a
limb of the tree, something at first sight that he took to be a snake.
But he knew of no snakes that had fur on their bodies. The round, furry
thing that he thought might be a snake at first now began whipping up
and down on the limb, curling at its end, twisting, performing strange
antics.

What could it mean? Stacy parted the foliage a little more, then once
again, as had been the case on the previous day, his eyes opened wide.

He saw now what was at the other end of the snake-like appendage. And
seeing he understood that he was in a predicament. But Chunky's voice
failed him.

There on the opposite limb of the tree, less than ten feet away,
crouched the biggest mountain lion Stacy Brown ever had seen. And
it grew larger with the seconds. The beast was working its tail, its
whiskers bristled, its eyes shone like points of steel. It seemed as
if the beast were trying to decide whether to attack the boy within
such easy reach or to leap to the ground and flee. The deep baying of
the dogs in the distance evidently decided the cat against the latter
plan. Then, too, perhaps the howls that Chunky now emitted had
som