Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 143
“Now, youngsters, let’s get our heads together.”
In shape the plateau resembled the ace of clubs. The center and side wings were high and well wooded with heavy pine; the middle wing was longest, sloped west, had no pine, but a dense growth of cedar. Numerous ridges and cañons cut up this central wing. Middle Cañon, the longest and deepest, bisected the plateau, headed near camp, and ran parallel with two smaller ones, which we named Right and Left Cañons. These three were lion runways, and hundreds of deer carcasses lined the thickets. North Hollow was the only depression, as well as runway, on the northwest rim. West Point formed the extreme western cape of the plateau. To the left of West Point was a deep cut-in of the rim-wall, called the Bay. The three important cañons opened into it. From the Bay the south rim was regular and impassable all the way round to the narrow Saddle, which connected it to the mainland.
“Wal,” said Hiram, “see the advantage we can git on the tarnal critters. The plateau is tolerable nigh ten miles long an’ six wide at the widest. We can’t git lost for very long. Thet’s a big thing in our favor. We know whar cougars go over the rim an’ we’ll head ’em off, make short-cut chases thet I calkilate is a new one in cougar-chasin’. ‘Cept whar we climbed up the Saddle cougars can’t git over the second wall of rock. The first rim, I oughter told you, is mebbe a thousand feet down, with breaks in places. Then comes a long cedar an’ piñon slope, weatherin’ slides, broken cliffs an’ crags, an’ then the second wall. Now regardin’ cougar sign — wal, I hardly believe the evidence of my own eyes. The plateau is virgin ground. We’ve stumbled on the breedin’-ground of the hundreds of cougars thet infest the north rim.”
Hiram struck his huge fist into the palm of his hand. He looked at Jim and me and then at the boys. It did not take a very observing person to see that the old bear hunter was actually excited. Jim ran his hand into his hair and scratched his head, a familiar action with him when his mind was working unusually.
“We hey corraled them, shore as you’re born!”
The flash in Hiram’s clear eyes changed to an anxious glance, that ranged from Ken and Hal to our horses.
“I reckon some common sense an’ care will make it safe for the youngsters,” he said, “but some of the hosses an’ some of the dogs are goin’ to git hurt, mebbe killed.”
More than anything else that remark, from such a man, thrilled me with its subtle suggestion. He loved horses and hounds. He saw danger ahead for them.
“Youngsters, listen,” he went on, soberly. “We’re in fer some chases. I want you to think first of the risk to yourselves, an’ then to the hosses you ride. Don’t fly often the handle. Be cool. Let your hosses pick the goin’. Keep sharp eyes peeled fer the snags on the trees, an’ fer bad rocks an’ places. Ken, you keep close behind Leslie as you can, an’ Hal, you stick close to Jim. Course we’ll lose each other an’ the hounds, an’ hey trouble findin’ each other again. But the idee is, keep cool and go slow, when you see it ain’t safe to go fast.”
During supper we talked a good deal, and afterward around the camp-fire. Hal was the only one who kept silent, and he was too absorbed in what he heard to find his own voice.
But during a lull in the conversation he asked suddenly:
“I want to know why our horses carried on so this morning when that stallion ran through the woods with his band?”
“Simple enough, Hal,” I replied. “They wanted to break loose and run off with the wild horses. They’ll do it, too, before we leave here. We rangers have trouble keeping our horses. The mountain is overrun with mustangs and such wild bands as you saw to-day. And if we lose a horse it’s almost impossible to catch him again.”
Twilight descended with the shadows sweeping under the pines; the night wind rose and began its moan.
“Shore there’s a scent on the wind,” said Jim, lighting his pipe with a red ember. “See how uneasy Prince is.”
The hound raised his dark head, pointing his nose into the cool breeze, and he walked to and fro as if on guard for his pack. Mux-Mux ground his teeth on a bone and growled at one of the pups. Curley was asleep. Ringer watched Prince with suspicious eyes. The other hounds lay stretched before the fire.
“Wal, Prince, we ain’t lookin’ fer trails tonight,” said Hiram. “Ken, it’ll be part of your duty around camp to help me with the pack. Chain ’em up now, an’ we’ll go to bed.”
CHAPTER VI - TRAILS
WHEN I AWAKENED next morning the crack of Hiram’s axe rang out sharply, and the light from the camp-fire played on Ken’s face as he lay asleep. I saw old Mux get up and stretch himself. A jangle of bells from the forest told me we would not have to wait for the horses.
“The Injun’s all right,” I heard Hiram say. “All rustle for breakfast,” called Jim. “Ken!...Hal!”
Then the boys rolled out, fresh-faced and bright-eyed, but still stiff and lame.
“Gee! Ken, listen to the horses coming,” said Hal. “How’d Navvy ever find them? It’s hardly daylight.”
“That’s a secret I expect every ranger would like to know,” replied Ken.
“I like that Indian — better’n at first,” went on Hal.
We ate in the semi-darkness with the gray shadow lifting among the trees. As we saddled our horses dawn lightened. The pups ran to and fro on their chains, scenting the air. The older hounds stood quiet, waiting.
“Come, Navvy. Come chase cougie,” said Hiram.
The Indian made a remarkable gesture of dislike or fear, I could not divine which.
“Let him keep camp,” I suggested.
“He’ll shore eat all our grub,” said Jim.
“Climb up, youngsters,” ordered Hiram. “An’ remember all I said about bein’ careful...Wal, hey I got all my trappin’s — rope, chains, collars, wire, nippers? Allright. Hyar, you lazy hounds — out of this. Take the lead that, Prince.”
We rode abreast through the forest, and I could not help seeing the pleasure in Ken’s face and the wild spirit in Hal’s eyes. The hounds followed Prince at an orderly trot. We struck out of the pines at half-past five. Floating mists hid the lower end of the plateau, but cedar-trees began to show green against the soft gray of sage. The morning had a cool touch, though there was no frost. Jogging along, we had crossed Middle Cañon and were nearing the dark line of cedar forest when Hiram, who led, held up his hand in a warning check.
“Oh, Ken! look at Prince,” whispered Hal to his brother.
The hound stood stiff, head well up, nose working, and hair on his back bristling. All the other hounds whined and kept close to him.
“Prince has a scent,” said Hiram. “Thar’s been a cougar round hyar. I never knowed Prince to be fooled. The scent’s in the wind. Hunt ’em up, Prince. Spread out thar, you dogs.”
The pack commenced to work back and forth along the ridge. We neared a hollow where Prince barked eagerly. Curley answered, and likewise Queen. Mux’s short, angry bow-wow showed that he was in line.
“Ringer’s gone,” shouted Jim. “He was farthest ahead. Shore he’s struck a trail.”
“Likely enough,” replied Hiram. “But Ringer doesn’t bay...Thar’s Prince workin’ over. Look sharp, youngsters, an’ be ready fer some ridin’. We’re close!”
The hounds went tearing through the sage, working harder and harder, calling and answering one another, all the time getting down into the hollow. Suddenly Prince began to yelp. Like a yellow dart he shot into the cedars, running head up. Curley howled his deep, full bay and led the rest of the pack up the slope in angry clamor.
“Thar off!” yelled Hiram, spurring his big horse.
“Stay with me, Kid,” shouted Jim over his shoulder to Hal. The lad’s pinto leaped into quick action. They were out of sight in the cedars in less than a moment. I heard Ken close behind me, and yelled to him to come along. Crashings among the cedars ahead, thud of hoofs and yells kept me going in one direction. The fiery burst of the hounds had surprised me. Such hunting was as new to me as to the boys, and from the tingling in my veins I began to feel that it was just as exciting. I remembered that Jim had said Hiram and his charger might keep the pack in sight, but the rest of us could not.
My horse was carrying me at a fast pace on the trail of some one, and he seemed to know that by keeping in this trail part of the work of breaking through the brush was already done for him. Ken’s horse thundered in my rear. The sharp cedar branches struck and stung me, and I heard them hitting Ken. We climbed a ridge, found the cedars thinning out, and then there were open patches. As we faced a slope of sage I saw Hiram on his big horse.
“Ride now, boy!” I yelled to Ken.
“I’ll hang to you. Cut loose!” he shouted in reply.
We hurdled the bunches of sage, and went over the brush, rocks, and gullies at breakneck speed. I heard nothing but the wind singing in my ears. Hiram’s trail, plain in the yellow ground, showed me the way. Upon entering the cedars again we lost it. I stopped my horse and checked Ken. Then I called. I heard the baying of the hounds, but no answer to my signal.
“Don’t say we’ve lost them!” cried Ken. “Come on! The hounds are close.”
We burst through thickets, threaded the mazes of cedars, and galloped over sage flats till a signal cry, sharp to our right, turned us. I answered, and an exchange of signals led us into an open glade where we found Hiram, Jim, and Hal, but no sign of a hound.
“Hyar you are,” said Hiram. “Now hold up, an’ listen fer the hounds.”
With the labored breathing of the horses filling our ears we could hear no other sound. Dismounting, I went aside a little way and turned my ear to the breeze.
“I hear Prince,” I cried, instantly.
“Which way?” both men asked.
“West.”
“Strange,” said Hiram.
“Shore the hounds wouldn’t split?” asked Jim. “Prince leave thet hot trail? Not much. But he’s runnin’ queer this mornin’.”
“There! Now listen,” I put in. “There are Prince and another hound with a deep bay.”
“Thet’s Curley. I hear ’em now. They’re runnin’ to us, an’ hot. We might see a cougar any minnit. Keep a tight rein, youngsters. Mind a hoss is scan to death of a cougar.”
The baying came closer and closer. Our horses threw up their ears. Hal’s pinto stood up and snorted. The lad handled him well. Then at a quick cry from Jim we saw Prince cross the lower end of the flat.
There was no need to spur our mounts. The lifting of bridles served, and away we raced. Prince disappeared in a trice, then Curley, Mux, and Queen broke out of the cedars in full cry. They, too, were soon out of sight.
“Hounds runnin’ wild,” yelled Hiram.
The onslaught of the hunter and his charger stirred a fear in me that checked admiration. I saw the green of a low cedar-tree shake and split to let in the huge, gaunt horse with rider doubled over the saddle. Then came the crash of breaking brush and pounding of hoofs from the direction the hounds had taken. We strung out in the lane Hiram left and hung low over the pommels; and though we had his trail and followed it at only half his speed, yet the tearing and whipping we got from the cedar spikes were hard enough indeed.
A hundred rods within the forest we unexpectedly came upon Hiram, dismounted, searching the ground. Mux and Curley were with him, apparently at fault. Suddenly Mux left the little glade and, with a sullen, quick bark, disappeared under the trees. Curley sat on his haunches and yelped.
“Shore somethin’s wrong,” said Jim, tumbling out of his saddle. “Hiram, I see a lion track.”
“Here, fellows, I see one, and it’s not where you’re looking,” I added.
“Now what do you think I’m lookin’ fer if it ain’t tracks?” queried Hiram. “Hyar’s one cougar track, an’ thar’s another. Jump off, youngsters, an’ git a good look at ‘em. Hyar’s the trail we were on, an’ thar’s the other, crossin’ at right angles. Both are fresh, one ain’t many minnits old. Prince an’ Queen hey split one way, an’ Mux another. Curley, wise old hound, hung fire an’ waited fer me. Whar on earth is Ringer? It ain’t like him to be lost when thar’s doin’s like this.”
“What next?” asked Jim, mounting.
“I’ll put Curley on the fresher trail,” replied Hiram. “An’ you all ought to be able to keep within hearin’ of him...Thar! Curley...Hi! Hi!”
Curley dashed off on the trail Mux had taken. Then began some hard riding. Hal and the pinto were directly in front of me, and I saw that the lad was having the ride of his life. Sometimes he ducked the cedar branches and again he was not quick enough. There were times when I thought he would be swept from his saddle, but he hung on while the pinto made a hole in the brush. More than once Hal lost his stirrup-footing. All the time that I watched him and turned to see if Ken was all right, I was getting a thrashing from the cedars. But I felt only the severest lashes. From time to time Hiram yelled. We managed to keep within earshot of Curley, and presently reached a cañon, which, judging by depth, must have been Middle Cañon. At that point it was a barrier to our progress, but fortunately Curley did not climb the opposite slope, so we followed the rim and gained on the hound. Soon we heard Mux. Curley had caught up with him. We came to a point where the cañon was not so deep and wider, and the slopes were less rugged. Curley bayed incessantly. Mux uttered harsh howls, and both hounds in plain sight began working in a circle. Hiram reined in his horse and leaped off, while the rest of us came to a halt.
“Off now, youngsters,” said Hiram, sharply. “Tie your hosses, tight. The cougar’s gone up somewhat. Run along the slope an’ look sharp in every cedar an’ piñon, an’ in every crevice of the cliffs.”
Hal jumped off, but did not tie his pinto, and he was white with excitement and panting heavily. Ken left his mustang and hurried along the ledge ahead of me. Every few steps he would stop to peer cautiously around. As if he had been struck, he suddenly straightened and his voice pealed out:
“The lion! The lion! Here he is! I see him!...Oh, hurry, Hal!”
I ran toward Ken, but could not see the lion. Then I stopped to watch Mux. He ran to the edge of a low wall of stone across the cañon; he looked over, and barked fiercely. When I saw him slide down a steep slope, make for the bottom of the stone wall, and jump into the branches of a cedar I knew where to look for the lion. Then I espied a round yellow ball cunningly curled up in a mass of branches. Probably the lion had leaped into the tree from the wall.
“Treed! Treed!” I yelled. “Mux has found him.”
Hiram appeared, crashing down a weathered slope.
“Hyar, everybody,” he bawled. “Hustle down an’ make a racket. We don’t want him to jump.”
CHAPTER VII - TWO LIONS
HIRAM AND JIM rolled down and fairly cracked the stones in their descent. I shouted for the boys to come on. Hal never moved a muscle, and Ken seemed chained to the spot. Hiram turned and saw them.
“Ho, youngsters, are you scared?” shouted he.
“Yes, but I’m coming,” replied Ken. Still he showed a strange vacillation. Overcome then by shame or anger, he plunged down the slope and did not halt till he was under the snarling lion.
“Back, Ken, back! You’re too close,” warned Hiram. “He might jump, an’ if he does don’t run, but drop flat. He’s a Tom, a two-year-old, an’ he’s sassy.”
“Don’t care — whether he — jumps or not,” panted Ken, bouncing about. “I’ve got to — be cured — of this — this—”
Whatever Ken had to be cured of he did not say, but I had no doubt that it was dread. I, myself, did not feel perfectly cool, by some dozens of degrees. The flaming eyes of the lion, his open mouth with its white fangs, his steady, hissing growls, the rippling of muscles as if it was his intention to leap at the hounds, were matters certainly not conducive to calmness.
“Will you — look at Mux!” shouted Ken.
The old hound had already climbed a third of the distance up to the lion.
“Hyar, Mux, you rascal coon-chaser!” yelled Hiram. “Out of thar!” He threw stones and sticks at the hound. Mux replied with his surly bark and steadily climbed on.
“I’ll hey to pull him out, or thart’ll be a dead hound in about a minnit,” said Hiram. “Watch close, Jim, an’ tell me if the cougar starts down. I can’t see through the thick branches. He’ll git mighty nervous jest before he starts.”
When Hiram mounted into the first branches of the cedar Tom emitted an ominous growl, and bunched himself into a ball, trembling all over.
“Shore he’s comin’,” yelled Jim.
The lion, snarling viciously, started to descend, and Hiram warily backed down. It was a ticklish moment for all of us, particularly Hiram; and as for me, what with keeping an eye on the lion and watching the boys, I had enough to do. Hal’s actions were singular; he would run down the slope, then run back, wave his arms and let out an Indian yell. His brother kept dodging to and fro as if he were on hot bricks. Never before had I seen such eyes as blazed in Ken Ward’s face. The lion went hack up the cedar, Mux climbed laboriously on, and Hiram followed. “Fellars, mebbe he’s bluffin’,” said Hiram.
“Let’s try him out. Now all of you grab sticks an’ holler an’ run at the tree as if you was goin’ to kill him.”
The thrashing, yelling din we made under that cedar might have alarmed even an African lion. Tom shook all over, showed his white fangs, and climbed so far up that the branches he clung to swayed alarmingly.
“Here, punch Mux out,” said Jim, handing up a long pole.
The old hound hung to the tree, making it difficult to dislodge him, but at length Hiram punched him off. He fell heavily, whereupon, venting his thick battle-cry, he essayed to climb again.
“You old gladiator! Git down!” protested Hiram. “What in the tarnal dickens can we do with sich a dog? Tie him up, somebody.”
