CHAPTER XXI
A COUGAR AT BAY
The dogs did not succeed in picking up another trail that day, so,late in the afternoon, the guide directed them to make camp by astream, under the tall, clustering spruces in a deep ravine.
Tired from their hard run, the hounds threw themselves down by thecool stream to satisfy their thirst. Mustard employed his time inlicking his wounded nose, where the claws of the bob-cat had rakedit. Altogether the two animals appeared more disappointed over theloss of their quarry than did the boys themselves. While responding tothe caresses of their young masters, the dogs were irritable to thepoint of snapping angrily at each other whenever they approached oneanother close enough to do so.
"They don't seem to enjoy each other's company," said Stacy, observingthe animals curiously.
"They're always that way after a chase," answered the guide. "Theywill be friendly to their masters, but extremely irritable to eachother. By to-morrow morning the hounds will be bosom friends, you willfind."
"Humph! I wouldn't like to belong to that family," decided Chunky.
Next morning, Lige decided that it would be best to move further northfor cougar, they having failed to strike the trail of any on theprevious day. Somehow, the dogs had lost the trail of the one that hadso recently disturbed the camp, picking up the scent of the bob-catinstead.
This frequently was the case, as the guide informed them while theywere riding along in the fresh morning air. The dogs had not beenfreed yet, Lige leading them along by the side of his pony on a longleash.
Tad was trailing along a few rods to the rear. A sudden exclamationfrom him caused the others to pull up sharply.
The lad's eyes were fixed on a tree a short distance ahead of himbeneath which the party had just passed.
"What is it?" demanded Lige in a low voice.
As if in answer to his question, the hounds uttered a deep, menacinggrowl.
Tad made no reply, but signaled with his hand that they were to remainquietly where they were.
They saw him slip off the strap that held the rifle to his back andbring the weapon around in front of him. There he paused, holding thegun idly in one hand, his gaze still fixed on the top of the tree.
All at once the butt of the rifle leaped to his shoulder. There was apuff of smoke, a crash, followed by a loud squall, and a greatfloundering about among the branches.
Without lowering the weapon from his shoulder, the young hunter let goanother shot.
The squalling ceased suddenly, but the disturbance in the treecontinued, sounding as if some heavy body were falling through thebranches.
This proved to be the case. In a moment more the animal he had firedat came tumbling down, landing in a quivering heap at the foot of thetree.
Tad lowered the muzzle of his smoking weapon, gazing in keensatisfaction at the victim of his successful shot.
"Good shot!" glowed Lige. "It's a cat." Yet, before he could dismount,the hounds had wrenched themselves free and pounced upon the body ofthe dead bob-cat. With savage growls they tore the sleek hide intoribbons, on one side, and were devouring the flesh of the animalravenously.
The hide was ruined.
"Let them alone!" ordered Lige. "That's the only fun they get out ofthe game. They'll be keen to get on the track of a cougar, now thatthey have tasted blood." And so it proved.
With their first big game, on this trip, at their feet, the boys wereeager to be off for the haunts of the cruel cougar. To theirdisappointment, however, they were able to sight nothing moreinteresting than a gaunt gray wolf, at which Ned took a long shot andmissed.
"Might as well try to hit a razor's edge at that distance," saidLige. "They have no flesh on them at all, to speak of, now----"
"Will they bite?" asked Chunky innocently. "A pack of them would eatyou, bones and all, in a few moments," grinned Lige.
Chunky shuddered.
"But the gray wolf, when taken young, makes an ideal pet. Some of thebest cougar hounds I nave ever seen were trained wolves, working witha pack of regular hounds, of course," he explained. Leaving thecarcass of the bob-oat for the ravens and magpies, which were alreadyhovering about in the tall trees awaiting their turn at it, thehunters moved on.
No other game being found that day, the party turned eastward, wherecamp was made, this time on the flat top of a low-lying mountain. Norwas it until late the following afternoon that the dogs appeared tohave struck a promising lead. From the way they worked Lige thoughtthey were trailing a black bear.
Forcing the ponies into a brisk trot, the boys still found themselvesfalling behind the hounds. Then, at the guide's suggestion, they wentin chase at a lively gallop.
The run continued for somewhat more than two hours, until the poniesbegan to lag, and until every bone in the bodies of the hunters seemedto be crying aloud for rest. The going had been rougher than any theyhad yet experienced.
Now they found themselves in a country differing materially from anythey had yet explored. The hills were lower and thickly studded withtrees, the whole resembling an exaggerated rolling prairie.
"They've got him this time," announced the guide.
"Got what?" demanded Chunky.
"We'll know soon," answered Lige directing the boys to urge theirponies along, and at a rapid pace they came up with the hounds sometwenty minutes later.
They were fighting some animal in a dense copse. It was a dinfulracket they made in their desperate battle.
"It's a cougar," explained Lige. "No cat would make such arumpus. Look out for yourselves. I guess you had better lead theponies off to the right, there, and stake them securely, for we mayhave a fight on our own hook before we have finished here. Hurry ifyou want to see the fun."
The boys were back in a twinkling.
"Fix them so they can't get away?"
"Yes."
"Then all of you line up here on this side so we won't be shootingeach other when the brute makes his attempt at a get-away, as hesurely will, when the dogs give him a chance. Two of them can't holdhim long. We ought to have a pack."
They could hear the battle waging desperately in the bushes, whichwere being rapidly trampled down by the dogs and their victim, amidscreams of rage from the animal and menacing, deadly growls from thehounds.
Soon the young hunters were able to make out the combatants, as thebeast worked its way little by little to its right in an effort toget within reaching distance of a tree that it espied near by. Butthe dogs fought valiantly to outwit this very move.
"We've got a cougar this time!" shouted Lige triumphantly. "Look outfor him!"
They could see the fighters plainly now. It was dangerous to fire forfear of hitting the hounds. Already they were bleeding where the fangsor claws of the ugly beast had raked them.
However, the dogs were working with keen intelligence. One would nipat a flank while the other played for the head of the cougar, in hopesof getting an opening.
Snarling, pawing, grinning, its ugly yellow teeth showing in twoglistening rows, the beast fought savagely for its life.
Despite the guide's warning, Tad Butler and Ned Rector had drawncloser that they might get a better view of the sanguinary conflict.
"I'm afraid they'll never make it," groaned Lige. "It's fearfulodds. Everybody stand ready to let him have it when he breaksaway. But keep cool. And be careful that you don't hit the dogs. Mightbetter let the cat get away. There he goes!"
The huge beast leaped clear of the pocket into which the dogs hadbacked him.
"Don't shoot!" ordered the guide, observing one of the boysswinging his rifle down on the struggling animals.
As the big cat leaped, Mustard fastened his fangs into the beast'sleft leg, and was carried along with the cougar in its mightyspring. They could hear the hones grind as the iron jaws of the houndshut down on them.
With a scream of rage, the maddened animal came to a sudden stop.Its cruel yellow head shot out, jaws wide apart,
aimed straight forMustard, who was still hanging with desperate courage to the beast'sleg.
Yet the momentary hesitation, the few seconds lost in stopping inits rapid flight and reaching back for Mustard, proved the cougar'sundoing.
With a snarl that sent a shiver up and down the backs of the PonyRiders, Ginger threw himself at the head of the beast. The hound'spowerful jaws closed upon it with a snap.
Over and over rolled the combatants, the dogs without a sound--thecougar uttering muffled screams, its great paws beating the air. Onestroke reached Mustard, hurling him fully a rod away, where he felland lay quivering, a dull red rent appearing in his glossy coat.
The cougar, in an effort to throw Ginger off, was shaking his head, asa terrier would in killing a rat.
"Ah! He can't make it," cried Lige.
"Hang on, Ginger! Go it, Ginger!" encouraged the boys, now wild withexcitement.
But the hound was fast losing his hold, and the hunters groaned insympathy with him as they observed this.
Mustard, understanding this too, perhaps, struggled to his feet andstaggered into the arena to assist his mate, only to meet a repetitionof the calamity that had befallen him a few minutes before. Ginger'shold was broken at last. One great paw felled him to earth, and thecougar's yawning jaws closed over his head with crushing force.
Tad Butler's blood was coursing through his veins madly. He couldendure it no longer. A second or so more and the faithful dog's lifewould be at an end. With a cry of warning to the others not to shoot,Tad leaped into the fray, Mustard, at the same time, hurling himselfat the beast's throat, where he fastened and clung.
As Tad sprang forward, his hunting knife flashed from its sheath, andwith a movement so quick that the eyes of the spectators failed tocatch it, the boy drove the keen blade into the cougar's body, justback of the right shoulder.
At that instant the beast succeeded in freeing itself from theweakened hounds, and, straightening up with a frightful roar, leapedinto the air, one huge paw catching Tad Butler and hurling him to theground.
Tad shuddered convulsively, then lay still.
Lige Thomas's rifle roared out a hoarse protest, and at the end of itsleap the cougar lurched forward and fell dead.