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Updated: June 26, 2025
Emett's horse bounded as I have seen a great racer leave the post, and his desert brothers, loving wild bursts of speed, needing no spur, kept their noses even with his flanks. The soft snow, not too deep, rather facilitated than impeded this wild movement, and the open forest was like a highway.
The other hounds, mature and somber, lay stretched before the fire. "Tie them up, Jim," said Jones, "and let's turn in." When I awakened next morning the sound of Emett's axe rang out sharply. Little streaks of light from the camp-fire played between the flaps of the tent. I saw old Moze get up and stretch himself.
The lion, whirling and wrestling, rolled over the precipice. When the rope straightened with a twang, had it not been fastened to the rock, Jones and I would have jerked over the wall. The shock threw us to our knees. For a moment we did not realize the situation. Emett's yells awakened us. "Pull! Pull! Pull!" roared he.
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