soon afterward. Not in self-defense
but in revenge.

Not many deer lived on the South Rim then. That was before the fawns
were brought by airplane across the Canyon! The few that were there were
cherished and protected in every possible way. A salt pen was built so
high the cattle couldn't get in, and it was a wonderful sight to see the
graceful deer spring over that high fence with seemingly no effort at
all. Ranger West came in one morning with blood in his eye--one of his
pets had been dragged down under the Rim and half devoured by a giant
cougar. A hunt was staged at once. I was told to stay at home, but that
didn't stop me from going. Ranger Fisk always saddled Tar Baby for me
when everybody else thought it best to leave me behind. So I wasn't far
away when the big cat was treed by the dogs. He sat close to the trunk
of the dead tree, defying the dogs and spitting at them until they were
almost upon him. Then he sprang up the tree and lay stretched out on a
limb snarling until a rifle ball brought him down. He hit the ground
fighting, and ripped the nose of an impetuous puppy wide open. Another
shot stretched him out. He measured eight feet from tip to tip. His skin
was tanned by an Indian and adorns a bench in the Ranger Office.

[Illustration]

_Chapter VIII: THE DAY'S WORK_

The snow had been tumbling down every day for weeks, until several feet
lay on the ground. After each storm the rangers took snow plows and
cleared the roads along the Rim, but the rest of our little world lay
among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our
heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Alaska.
The gloomy days were getting monotonous, and when the Chief announced he
was going to make an inspection trip over Tonto Trail, I elected myself,
unanimously, to go along.

"But it's cold riding down there, even if there is no snow," protested
White Mountain. "And, besides, your horse is lame."

"Well, it isn't exactly hot up here, and I'll borrow Dixie. I'm going!"

Ranger West obligingly lent Dixie to me and I went. The thermometer
registered well below zero when we started down Bright Angel Trail. On
account of the icy trail my descent threatened to be a sudden one. Dixie
slid along stiff-legged, and I was half paralyzed with fright and cold.
But every time the Chief looked back, I pulled my frozen features into
what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as