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Updated: June 25, 2025
As for Moze well, great dogs have their faults as do great men he never got enough meat; he would fight even poor crippled Jude, and steal even from the pups; when he had gotten all Jim would give him, and all he could snatch, he would growl away with bulging sides. "How about feeding the lions?" asked Emett.
"Now what the hell is wrong?" growled Jones tumbling off his saddle. "Shore something is," said Jim, also dismounting. "Here's a lion track," interposed Emett. "Ha! and here's another," cried Jones, in great satisfaction. "That's the trail we were on, and here's another crossing it at right angles. Both are fresh: one isn't fifteen minutes old. Don and Jude have split one way and Moze another.
Emett, at the other end of the lasso, threw his great strength into action, pulling the lion out with a crash, and giving the cedar such a tremendous shaking that Jones lost his footing and fell heavily. Thrilling as the moment was, I had to laugh, for Jones came up out of a cloud of dust, as angry as a wet hornet, and made prodigious leaps to get out of the reach of the whirling lion.
"It's a matter of fright. Try the stallion. He doesn't look afraid," said Jones, who never knew when he was beaten. Emett gazed at Jones as if he had not heard right. "Go ahead, try the stallion. I like the way he looks." No wonder! The big stallion looked a king of horses just what he would have been if Emett had not taken him, when a colt, from his wild desert brothers.
The leap of the lioness carried her within reach of Jones; and as he raised himself, back toward her, she reached a big paw for him just as Emett threw all his bull strength and bulk on his lasso. The seat of Jones' trousers came away with the lioness' claws. Then she fell backward, overcome by Emett's desperate lunge.
We ate while Navvy fed and saddled the horses. "Shore, they'll be somethin' doin' to-day," said Jim, fatalistically. "We haven't crippled a horse yet," put in Emett hopefully. Don led the pack and us down the ridge, out of the pines into the sage. The sun, a red ball, glared out of the eastern mist, shedding a dull glow on the ramparts of the far canyon walls.
The lion is here; on top of that round crag. He's fooled the hounds and they can't find him." "I see him! I see him!" yelled Jones. Then he roared out a single call for Emett that pealed like a clear clarion along the curved broken rim wall, opening up echoes which clapped like thunder. While Jones clattered down I turned again to the lion.
A herd of white-tailed deer scattered before the hounds. Blue grouse whirred from under our horses' feet. "Spread out," ordered Jones, and though he meant the hounds, we all followed his suggestion, as the wisest course. Ranger began to work up the sage ridge to the right. Jones, Emett and I followed, while Jim rode away to the left.
In less than a minute we had lost one another. Crashings among the dry cedars, thud of hoofs and yells kept me going in one direction. The fiery burst of the hounds had surprised me. I remembered that Jim had said Emett and his charger might keep the pack in sight, but that none of the rest of us could. It did not take me long to realize what my mustang was made of.
He slid down, hand over hand, on the rope, the lioness holding his weight with apparent ease. "Make your noose ready," he yelled to Emett. I had to drop my camera to help Jones and Jim pull the animal from her perch. The branches broke in a shower; then the lioness, hissing, snarling, whirling, plunged down.
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