I have known three men to
have been killed by Mountain Lions. The Mountain Lion is very shy he can
be poisoned the best of any way of taking his life. to trap a Lion you
must set all bait traps and deadfalls horse back and be sure your horse
has no shoes nor horse nails in their hoofs, if they have the Lion will
steer clear of the trap they are very clever in every way. One time I
was delayed from Camp it grew dark and I had an awful time to pick my
way home I soon discovered that I had more than the dark and difficult
roads to battle, For I was being followed by a Lioness five whelps and
an old Dog Lion. I was on my Favorite Horse Old Gotch. He feared Lions
equally as great as I hated Squaws, They followed me for about three
miles and when I reached an open space in the woods I halted near an old
fir stub, I dismounted cautiously I could hear the old Dog growl and the
whelps squeal like a flock of young pups. I found some dry leaves and
struck a fire breaking off the limbs of the old stub for fuel, After an
hour these limbs were all burned up and I had to go about thirty feet to
another stub for wood. I had to be pretty foxy for both lioness and Dog
kept uncomfortably close to me all the time I carried my six shooter in
one hand, and wood on the other arm; just as I was returning with a load
of wood the moon broke through a cloud and the old Dog was standing
about forty five feet away in a bunch of weeds. I pulled my gun and took
a chance shot and as luck would have it I broke his for shoulders and he
could leap around but not direct his course. I never heard such a
tearing racket; he would leap ten feet high and fall on his head when he
struck ground, by this I knew I had fixed his front limbs. At this the
Lioness and whelps retreated and after an hour I mounted Gotch and rode
up near the tired and crippled Dog and sent a ball through his heart. I
returned to the fire and had a little sleep before day-break. I skined
the old fellow next morning he was a monster old, rugged, brawny &
covered with (23) wounds. he had also been shot three times before.

After we broke camp we went to Mexico and rode a Horse Ranch. following
this for several months we worked our way northward taking carefull
notation of the changes in Saddles, Horses and riders. I have ridden
many wild horses and used many kinds of saddles but the king of all
saddles is the Meany. We could tie on to a steer that wieghed a ton and
not be afriad of tearing t