a lion track for you; made by a female, a two-year-old;
but can't say if she passed here last night. Don won't take the trail.
Try Moze."

I led Moze to the big, round imprint, and put his nose down into it.
The old hound sniffed and sniffed, then lost interest.

"Cold!" ejaculated Jones. "No go. Try Sounder. Come, old boy, you've
the nose for it."

He urged the reluctant hound forward. Sounder needed not to be shown
the trail; he stuck his nose in it, and stood very quiet for a long
moment; then he quivered slightly, raised his nose and sought the next
track. Step by step he went slowly, doubtfully. All at once his tail
wagged stiffly.

"Look at that!" cried Jones in delight. "He's caught a scent when the
others couldn't. Hyah, Moze, get back. Keep Moze and Don back; give him
room."

Slowly Sounder paced up the ravine, as carefully as if he were
traveling on thin ice. He passed the dusty, open trail to a scaly
ground with little bits of grass, and he kept on.

We were electrified to hear him give vent to a deep bugle-blast note of
eagerness.

"By George, he's got it, boys!" exclaimed Jones, as he lifted the
stubborn, struggling hound off the trail. "I know that bay. It means a
lion passed here this morning. And we'll get him up as sure as you're
alive. Come, Sounder. Now for the horses."

As we ran pell-mell into the little glade, where Jim sat mending some
saddle trapping, Frank rode up the trail with the horses.

"Well, I heard Sounder," he said with his genial smile. "Somethin's
comin' off, eh? You'll have to ooze round some to keep up with that
hound."

I saddled Satan with fingers that trembled in excitement, and pushed my
little Remington automatic into the rifle holster.

"Boys, listen," said our leader. "We're off now in the beginning of a
hunt new to you. Remember no shooting, no blood-letting, except in
self-defense. Keep as close to me as you can. Listen for the dogs, and
when you fall behind or separate, yell out the signal cry. Don't forget
this. We're bound to lose each other. Look out for the spikes and
branches on the trees. If the dogs split, whoever follows the one that
trees the lion must wait there till the rest come up. Off now! Come,
Sounder; Moze, you rascal, hyah! Come, Don, come, Puppy, and take your
medicine."

Except Moze, the hounds were all trembling and running eagerly to and
fro. When Sounder was loosed, he led them in a bee-line to the trail,
with us cantering after. Sou