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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Emett, does he mean he saw a cougar or a track?" questioned Jones. "Me savvy," replied the Indian. "Butteen, butteen!" "He says, trail trail," put in Emett. "I guess I'd better go and see." "I'll go with you," said Jones. "Jim, keep the hounds tight and hurry with the horses' oats."
The hounds were ready for him, but wisely attacked in the rear. Realizing he had been shooting fine shot at the animal, Jones began a hurried search for a shell loaded with ball. The lion made for him, compelling him to dodge behind trees. Even though the hounds kept nipping the cougar, the persistent fellow still pursued the hunter.
They'll be keen to get on the track of a cougar, now that they have tasted blood." And so it proved. With their first big game, on this trip, at their feet, the boys were eager to be off for the haunts of the cruel cougar. To their disappointment, however, they were able to sight nothing more interesting than a gaunt gray wolf, at which Ned took a long shot and missed.
Fred was held with a sort of fascination, and had turned his head sufficiently to watch every movement of his victim. Then he started downward, his whitish belly was turned upward, while he continued to beat and claw the air in his death struggles. As is the tendency of falling bodies, the carcass of the cougar showed an inclination to revolve.
"Don't trust too much to his friendship, for it might be the worse for you; lions seldom fondle any thing without hurting it." "Was it a lion?" asked Lucien. "Yes," I answered; "but an American lion, or cougar, known by savants as the Felis puma." "How I should like to have seen it! Had it a mane?" "No; the puma is without one."
At last he made out a long, tawny shape on a low-lying bough of a tree at the very edge of the forest. The shape was flattened against the bough and almost blended with it. "A panther!" whispered Paul. Henry nodded. It was, in fact, a large specimen of the panther or southern cougar, and Henry whispered again: "See what he is after!"
The singular adventure of old Ike illustrates a point in natural history that, as soon as the trapper had ended, became the subject of conversation. It was that singular trait in the character of predatory animals, as the cougar, when under circumstances of danger.
If they had not been so eager to see what had happened, they would have fled back to the refuge of the warm cabin, but they hurried on toward the snug little hollow in which the gun trap had been placed. At fifty yards they stopped and went much more slowly, as a terrific growling and snarling smote their ears. "It's the cougar, and we've got him," said Dick.
The cougar, panther, or mountain lion is our largest representative of the cat family. Early settlers in the Eastern States record the existence of this treacherous beast in their conquest of the forests. The cry of the "painter," as he was called, rang through the dark woods and caused many hearts to quaver and little children to run to mother's side.
There in the blood-dyed dust of the old woodland street, where bison and elk, stag and lynx, wolf and cougar and bear had gored or torn each other during the centuries before; there on the same level, glutting their passion, their hatred, their revenge, the men fought out their strength the strength of that King of Beasts whose den is where it should be: in a man's spirit.
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