white near a
clump of green pinyons, was our guiding star. That last quarter of a
mile was a ringing run, a ride to remember.

As our mounts crashed back with stiff forelegs and haunches, Wallace
and I leaped off and darted into the clump of pinyons, whence issued a
hair-raising medley of yells and barks. I saw Jones, then Frank, both
waving their arms, then Moze and Sounder running wildly, airlessly
about.

"Look there!" rang in my ear, and Jones smashed me on the back with a
blow, which at any ordinary time would have laid me flat.

In a low, stubby pinyon tree, scarce twenty feet from us, was a tawny
form. An enormous mountain lion, as large as an African lioness, stood
planted with huge, round legs on two branches; and he faced us
gloomily, neither frightened nor fierce. He watched the running dogs
with pale, yellow eyes, waved his massive head and switched a long,
black tufted tail.

"It's Old Tom! sure as you're born! It's Old Tom!" yelled Jones.
"There's no two lions like that in one country. Hold still now. Jude is
here, and she'll see him, she'll show him to the other hounds. Hold
still!"

We heard Jude coming at a fast pace for a lame dog, and we saw her
presently, running with her nose down for a moment, then up. She
entered the clump of trees, and bumped her nose against the pinyon Old
Tom was in, and looked up like a dog that knew her business. The series
of wild howls she broke into quickly brought Sounder and Moze to her
side. They, too, saw the big lion, not fifteen feet over their heads.

We were all yelling and trying to talk at once, in some such state as
the dogs.

"Hyar, Moze! Come down out of that!" hoarsely shouted Jones.

Moze had begun to climb the thick, many-branched, low pinyon tree. He
paid not the slightest attention to Jones, who screamed and raged at
him.

"Cover the lion!" cried he to me. "Don't shoot unless he crouches to
jump on me."

The little beaded front-sight wavered slightly as I held my rifle
leveled at the grim, snarling face, and out of the corner of my eye, as
it were, I saw Jones dash in under the lion and grasp Moze by the hind
leg and haul him down. He broke from Jones and leaped again to the
first low branch. His master then grasped his collar and carried him to
where we stood and held him choking.

"Boys, we can't keep Tom up there. When he jumps, keep out of his way.
Maybe we can chase him up a better tree."

Old Tom suddenly left the branches, swinging