yelled, and waited. He passed on, Don at his
heels.

"There," I yelled again, "stop there; let Don go down with your lasso,
and come yourself."

I watched him swing the hound down a wall, and pull the slip noose
free. Don slid to the edge of a slope, trotted to the right and left
of crags, threaded the narrow places, and turned in the direction of
the baying hounds. He passed on the verge of precipices that made me
tremble for him; but sure-footed as a goat, he went on safely down, to
disappear far to my right.

Then I saw Emett sliding, leg wrapped around his lasso, down the first
step of the rim. His lasso, doubled so as to reach round a cedar
above, was too short to extend to the landing below. He dropped,
raising a cloud of dust, and starting the stones. Pulling one end of
his lasso up around the cedar he gathered it in a coil on his arm and
faced forward, following Don's trail.

What strides he took! In the clear light, with that wild red and
yellow background, with the stones and gravel roaring down, streaming
over the walls like waterfalls, he seemed a giant pursuing a foe. From
time to time he sent up a yell of encouragement that wound down the
canyon, to be answered by Jones and the baying hounds and then the
strange echoes. At last he passed out of sight behind the crests of
the trees; I heard him going down, down till the sounds came up faint
and hollow.

I was left absolutely alone with my two lions and never did a hunter
so delight in a situation. I sat there in the sun watching them. For a
long time they were quiet, listening. But as the bays and yells below
diminished in volume and occurrence and then ceased altogether, they
became restless. It was then that I, remembering the lion I had held
on top of the crag, began to bark like a hound. The lions became quiet
once more.

I bayed them for an hour. My voice grew from hoarse to hoarser, and
finally failed in my throat. The lions immediately grew restless
again. The lower one hissed, spat and growled at me, and made many
attempts to start down, each one of which I frustrated by throwing
stones under the tree. At length he made one more determined effort,
turned head downward, and stepped from branch to branch.

I dashed down the incline with a stone in one hand and a long club in
the other. Instinctively I knew I must hurt him--make him fear me.
If he got far enough down to jump, he would either escape or have me
helpless. I aimed deliberately at