Emett led, keeping close on Jim's trail, which showed plain in
the dust, and we followed.
Up and down ravines, over ridges, through sage flats and cedar
forests, to and fro, around and around, we trailed Jim and the hounds.
From time to time one of us let out a long yell.
"I see a big lion track," called Jones once, and that stirred us on
faster. Fully an hour passed before Jones halted us, saying we had
best try a signal. I dismounted, while Emett rolled his great voice
through the cedars.
A long silence ensued. From the depths of the forest Jim's answer
struck faintly on my ear. With a word to my companions I leaped on my
mustang and led the way. I rode as far as I could mark a straight line
with my eye, then stopped to wait for another cry. In this way, slowly
but surely we closed in on Jim.
We found him on the verge of the Bay, in the small glade where I had
left my horse the day I followed Don alone down the canyon. Jim was
engaged in binding up the leg of his horse. The baying of the hounds
floated up over the rim.
"What's up?" queried Jones.
"Old Sultan. That's what," replied Jim. "We run plumb into him. We've
had him in five trees. It ain't been long since he was in that cedar
there. When he jumped the yellow pup was in the way an' got killed.
My horse just managed to jump clear of the big lion, an' as it was,
nearly broke his leg.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213