NOTE 99: Momus--(Greek mythology) the god of ridicule and
mockery]

"Is that you, Mr. Givens?" said Josefa, in her deliberate, saccharine
contralto. "You nearly spoilt my shot when you yelled. Did you hurt
your head when you fell?"

"Oh, no," said Givens, quietly; "that didn't hurt." He stooped
ignominiously and dragged his best Stetson hat from under the beast.
It was crushed and wrinkled to a fine comedy effect. Then he knelt
down and softly stroked the fierce, open-jawed head of the dead lion.

"Poor old Bill!" he exclaimed mournfully.

"What's that?" asked Josefa, sharply.

"Of course you didn't know, Miss Josefa," said Givens, with an air of
one allowing magnanimity to triumph over grief. "Nobody can blame you.
I tried to save him, but I couldn't let you know in time."

"Save who?"

"Why, Bill. I've been looking for him all day. You see, he's been
our camp pet for two years. Poor old fellow, he wouldn't have hurt a
cottontail rabbit. It'll break the boys all up when they hear about
it. But you couldn't tell, of course, that Bill was just trying to
play with you."

Josefa's black eyes burned steadily upon him. Ripley Givens met the
test successfully. He stood rumpling the yellow-brown curls on his
head pensively. In his eye was regret, not unmingled with a gentle
reproach. His smooth features were set to a pattern of indisputable
sorrow. Josefa wavered.

"What was your pet doing here?" she asked, making a last stand.
"There's no camp near the White Horse Crossing."

"The old rascal ran away from camp yesterday," answered Givens
readily. "It's a wonder the coyotes didn't scare him to death. You
see, Jim Webster, our horse wrangler, brought a little terrier pup
into camp last week. The pup made life miserable for Bill--he used to
chase him around and chew his hind legs for hours at a time. Every
night when bedtime came Bill would sneak under one of the boy's
blankets and sleep to keep the pup from finding him. I reckon he must
have been worried pretty desperate or he wouldn't have run away. He
was always afraid to get out of sight of camp."

Josefa looked at the body of the fierce animal. Givens gently patted
one of the formidable paws that could have killed a yearling calf with
one blow. Slowly a red flush widened upon the dark olive face of the
girl. Was it the signal of shame of the true sportsman who has brought
down ignoble quarry? Her eyes grew softer, and the lowered lids drove