k ridge, and finally with Jim catching
my rifle and camera and then lending his shoulders, I reached the
bench below. Jones came puffing around a corner of the cliff, and soon
all three of us with the hounds stood out on the rocky shelf with only
a narrow space between us and the crouching lion.

Before we had a moment to speak, much less form a plan of attack, the
lion rose, spat at us defiantly, and deliberately jumped off the crag.
We heard him strike with a frightful thud.

Surprise held us dumb. To take the leap to the slope below seemed
beyond any beast not endowed with wings. We saw the lion bounding down
the identical trail which the other lion had taken. Jones came out of
his momentary indecision.

"Hold the dogs! Call them back!" he yelled hoarsely. "They'll kill the
lion we tied! They'll kill him!"

The hounds had scattered off the bench here and there, everywhere, to
come together on the trail below. Already they were in full cry with
the matchless Don at the fore. Manifestly to call them back was an
injustice, as well as impossible. In ten seconds they were out of
sight.

In silence we waited, each listening, each feeling the tragedy of the
situation, each praying that they would pass by the poor, helpless,
bound lion. Suddenly the regular baying swelled to a burst of savage,
snarling fury, such as the pack made in a vicious fight. This
ceased--short silence ensued; Don's sharp voice woke the echoes, then
the regular baying continued.

As with one thought, we all sat down. Painful as the certainty was it
was not so painful as that listening, hoping suspense.

"Shore they can't be blamed," said Jim finally. "Bumping their nose
into a tied lion that way--how'd they know?"

"Who could guess the second lion would jump off that quick and run
back to our captive?" burst out Jones.

"Shore we might have knowed it," replied Jim. "Well, I'm goin' after
the pack."

He gathered up his lasso and strode off the bench. Jones said he would
climb back to the rim, and I followed Jim.

Why the lions ran in that particular direction was clear to me when
I saw the trail. It was a runway, smooth and hard packed. I trudged
along it with rather less enjoyment than on any trail I had ever
followed to the canyon. Jim waited for me over the cedar ridge and
showed me where the captive lion lay dead. The hounds had not torn
him. They had killed him and passed on after the other.

"He was a fine fellow, all of seven fee