rked it at the moment, I had ceased to wonder at our
hounds. I took one picture as the lion sat in the dark shade, and then
climbed to the low cliff and sat down. I called Don to me and held
him. In case our quarry leaped upon the cliff I wanted a hound to put
quickly on his trail.

Another hour passed. It must have been a dark hour for the lion--he
looked as if it were--and one of impatience for the baying hounds, but
for me it was a full hour. Alone with the hounds and a lion, far from
the walks of men, walled in by the wild-colored cliffs, with the dry,
sweet smell of cedar and pinon, I asked no more.

Sounder and Moze, vociferously venting their arrival, were forerunners
to Jones. I saw his gray locks waving in the breeze, and yelled for
him to take his time. As he reached me the lion jumped and ran up the
canyon. This suited me, for I knew he would take to a tree soon and
the farther up he went the less distance we would have to pack him.
From the cliff I saw him run up a slope, pass a big cedar, cunningly
turn on his trail, and then climb into the tree and hide in its
thickest part. Don passed him, got off the trail, and ran at fault.
The others, so used to his leadership, were also baffled. But Jude,
crippled and slow, brought up the rear, and she did not go a yard
beyond where the lion turned. She opened up her deep call under the
cedar, and in a moment the howling pack were around her.

Jones and I toiled laboriously upward. He had brought my lasso, and
he handed it to me with the significant remark that I would soon have
need of it.

The cedar was bushy and overhung a yellow, bare slope that made Jones
shake his head. He climbed the tree, lassoed the spitting lion and
then leaped down to my side. By united and determined efforts we
pulled the lion off the limb and let him down. The hounds began to
leap at him. We both roared in a rage at them but to no use.

"Hold him there!" shouted Jones, leaving me with the lasso while he
sprang forward.

The weight of the animal dragged me forward and, had I not taken a
half hitch round a dead snag, would have lifted me off my feet or
pulled the lasso from my hands. As it was, the choking lion, now
within reach of the furious, leaping hounds, swung to and fro before
my face. He could not see me, but his frantic lunges narrowly missed
me.

If never before, Jones then showed his genius. Don had hold of the
lion's flank, and Jones, grabbing the hound by the hind legs