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, threw
him down the slope. Don fell and rolled a hundred feet before he
caught himself. Then Jones threw old Moze rolling, and Ranger, and all
except faithful Jude. Before they could get back he roped the lion
again and made fast to a tree. Then he yelled for me to let go. The
lion fell. Jones grabbed the lasso, at the same time calling for me to
stop the hounds. As they came bounding up the steep slope, I had to
club the noble fellows into submission.
Before the lion recovered wholly from his severe choking, we had his
paws bound fast. Then he could only heave his tawny sides, glare and
spit at us.
"Now what?" asked Jones. "Emett is watching the second lion, which we
fastened by chain and lasso to a swinging branch.
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