, which he always had
near him at night, he picked up his .44 and was on the point of stepping
into the open by the fire, when from above came a screech, a long
cat-like growl of defiance, yet defeat, that made the canon echo and
re-echo with maniacal vocal debauchery. Jack's heart, it is needless to
say, quit doing business peremptorily for at least thirty seconds. His
eyes followed the ear-vanes on the ponies' heads, and just at the edge
of that breastwork of rock could be seen two golden discs as big as car
wheels, Jack thought. A greenish glare as of a halo surrounded the
yellow spots, and occasionally the bright spots suddenly disappeared
only to shine forth again appallingly bright. It was a mountain lion
taking snap shots while it speculated on its appetite. Jack stepped out
and gave the end of a burned log a kick into the hot coals. Millions of
sparks flew up. The big lemon-colored orbs slunk back out of sight and
ten minutes later the faint repetition of the first number proclaimed
the concert ended.

The "big dipper" pointed to 3 o'clock. Throwing on some more fuel the
fire blazed high. Chiquita thrust her head out of the environments of
the fur bag and sat up in the willow retreat. "Me want 'em drink; mouth
heap dry," was the laconic remark she made to Jack as he acknowledged
her wakefulness. Giving her a cup of water, he referred to the visitor
just departed, to which she scornfully replied:

"Heap big coward, big cat with long tail. Little cat with short tail all
same like this bag, no coward. Big cat all same you call 'em lion, no
catch 'em ponies, Indian or white man, all time afraid. Big cat catch
'em rabbit, lame deer. Mebbe so heap hungry tackle 'em big elk; drop
from big tree on elk back. Big cat, little cat, wolf, bear, no come near
camp fire. Look at camp fire long way off. Chiquita no fraid when all
'lone."

With this piece of information, with which Jack was already acquainted,
they both resumed their interest in the land of Nod.

The bright winter sun had not mounted far enough in the heavens to shed
any warm rays into the camp when Jack pulled on his boots and poked the
fire preparatory to an early breakfast. The ponies did not look as if
dyspepsia troubled them, nor did Jack feel overburdened with belly
worship. The little larder was a hollow mockery to the knockings of a
ravenous appetite. Jack concluded that a well-fed discretion was better
than hungry haste, so he meandered down the rive