dily see our
advantage. The plateau is about nine or ten miles long, and six wide
at its widest. We can't get lost, at least for long. We know where
lions can go over the rim and we'll head them off, make short cut
chases, something new in lion hunting. We are positive the lions can
not get over the second wall, except where we came up, at the Saddle.
In regard to lion signs, I'm doubtful of the evidence of my own eyes.
This is virgin ground. No white man or Indian has ever hunted lions
here. We have stumbled on a lion home, the breeding place of hundreds
of lions that infest the north rim of the canyon."

The old plainsman struck a big fist into the palm of his hand, a rare
action with him. Jim lifted his broad hat and ran his fingers through
his white hair. In Emett's clear desert-eagle eyes shown a furtive,
anxious look, which yet could not overshadow the smouldering fire.

"If only we don't kill the horses!" he said.

More than anything else that remark from such a man thrilled me with
its subtle suggestion. He loved those beautiful horses. What wild
rides he saw in his mind's eye! In cold calculation we perceived the
wonderful possibilities never before experienced by hunters, and as
the wild spell clutched us my last bar of restraint let down.

During supper we talked incessantly, and afterward around the
camp-fire. Twilight fell with the dark shadows sweeping under the
silent pines; the night wind rose and began its moan.

"Shore there's some scent on the wind," said Jim, lighting his pipe
with a red ember. "See how uneasy Don is."

The hound raised his fine, dark head and repeatedly sniffed the air,
then walked to and fro as if on guard for his pack. Moze ground his
teeth on a bone and growled at one of the pups. Sounder was sleepy,
but he watched Don with suspicious eyes. The other hounds, mature and
somber, lay stretched before the fire.

"Tie them up, Jim," said Jones, "and let's turn in."

II

When I awakened next morning the sound of Emett's axe rang out
sharply. Little streaks of light from the camp-fire played between the
flaps of the tent. I saw old Moze get up and stretch himself. A jangle
of cow-bells from the forest told me we would not have to wait for the
horses that morning.

"The Injun's all right," Jones remarked to Emett.

"All rustle for breakfast," called Jim.

We ate in the semi-darkness with the gray shadow ever brightening.
Dawn broke as we saddled our horses. The pups were