ething to do with the former question.

Tad Butler, stretched out on the ground, found himself standing bolt
upright as if he had been propelled to that position by a spring. The
most unearthly howls he had ever heard broke upon the mountain stillness.

"Wow! Ow-wow-wow! Tad! Help, help, help! Quick!"

Tad was off like a shot himself, not even pausing to snatch up his gun
which lay so near at hand. And how he did run!

"Where, Chunky? Where are you? Shout quick!"

"Wow! Ow-wow-wow!" was the only answer Stacy Brown could make, but the
sound of his voice unerringly guided Tad to the location. But Stacy
could not be found.

"In the name of-----"

"Wow! Ow-wow-wow!" howled the agonized voice of the fat boy from the
branches of the pinyon tree.

Tad peered up between the branches. He saw Stacy looking down upon him
with panic stricken gaze.

"For the love of goodness, what's the matter, Stacy? You nearly
frightened me to death."

"Look out!" The words, shouted at the top of the fat boy's voice, were
so thrilling that Tad leaped back instinctively.

"See here, don't make a fool of me, too. What's the matter with you?
Come down out of that."

"I can't. He'll get me."

"What will get you? Nothing will get you, you ninny!"

"The lion will get me."

"Have you gone raving mad on the subject of lions?" jeered Butler.

"Look, if you don't believe me. He's up here. He's trying to get a
bite out of me. Shoot him, as you love me, Tad; shoot and shoot
straight or I'm a dead one."

For the first time since his arrival on the scene Tad began to realize
that Stacy was not having fun with him. Something really was up that
tree---something besides a Pony Rider boy.

"You don't mean to tell me there's a cat up there-----"

"Yes, yes! He's over there on the other side. Shoot, shoot!"

"I haven't my gun with me."

The fat boy groaned helplessly.

"I'm a dead one! Nothing can save me. Tell them I died like a man;
tell them I never uttered a squeal."

Tad had sprung around to the side of the pinyon tree indicated by Chunky.
Up there on a bushy limb, clear of the heavier foliage, lay a sleek,
but ugly looking cat, swishing its tail angrily. First, its glances
would shoot over to Stacy Brown, then down to Tad Butler. The lion,
as Tad decided on the spot, had gone into the tree to hide from the
dogs as had the one that had been shot on the canyon wall the previous
afternoon. This time the prop