"_Tohodena! Tohodena!_ (hurry! hurry!)" said Navvy, mimicking Jones
that morning.
As we sat down to breakfast he loped off into the forest and before we
got up the bells of the horses were jingling in the hollow.
"I believe it's going to be cloudy," said Jones, "and if so we can
hunt all day."
We rode down the ridge to the left of Middle Canyon, and had trouble
with the hounds all the way. First they ran foul of a coyote, which
was the one and only beast they could not resist. Spreading out to
head them off, we separated. I cut into a hollow and rode to its head,
where I went up. I heard the hounds and presently saw a big, white
coyote making fast time through the forest glades. It looked as if he
would cross close in front of me, so I pulled Foxie to a standstill,
jumped off and knelt with my rifle ready. But the sharp-eyed coyote
saw my horse and shied off. I had not much hope to hit him so far
away, and the five bullets I sent after him, singing and zipping,
served only to make him run faster. I mounted Foxie and intercepted
the hounds coming up sharply on the trail, and turned them toward my
companions, now hallooing from the ridge below.
Then the pack lost a good hour on several lion tracks that were a day
old, and for such trails we had no time. We reached the cedars however
at seven o'clock, and as the sky was overcast with low dun-colored
clouds and the air cool, we were sure it was not too late.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170