Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
He appeared stunned, and reeled so that Emett caught him. The blood poured from a wound in his head. This sudden shock sobered us instantly. On examination we found a long, jagged cut in Jones' scalp. We bathed it with water from my canteen and with snow Jim procured from a nearby hollow, eventually stopping the bleeding.
A stroke of his axe, a twist of his great hands, a turn of this or that made camp a more comfortable place. And if something, no matter what, got out of order or broken, there was Emett to show what it was to be a man of the desert. It had been my good fortune to see many able men on the trail and round the camp-fire, but not one of them even approached Emett's class.
From here the trail led off northeast. "Darn me!" ejaculated Jones. "The big critter came right into camp; he scented our lions, and raised up on this log to look over." Wheeling, he started for camp on the trot. Emett and I kept even with him. Words were superfluous. We knew what was coming. A made to order lion trail could not have equalled the one right in the back yard of our camp.
But despite this I slipped out a couple of yards farther, and had almost gotten to the knotted lasso, when the branch swayed and bent alarmingly. The lion sprang from his corner and crouched under me snarling and spitting, with every indication of leaping. "Jump! Jump! Jump!" shouted Emett hoarsely. I dared not, for I could not jump far enough to get out of the lion's reach.
I dismounted, while Emett rolled his great voice through the cedars. A long silence ensued. From the depths of the forest Jim's answer struck faintly on my ear. With a word to my companions I leaped on my mustang and led the way. I rode as far as I could mark a straight line with my eye, then stopped to wait for another cry. In this way, slowly but surely we closed in on Jim.
As we rode on and on, the sounds of the chase lessened, and finally ceased. To our great chagrin we found it necessary to retrace our steps, and when we did get over the deep gully, so much time had elapsed that we despaired of coming up with Jim. Emett led, keeping close on Jim's trail, which showed plain in the dust, and we followed.
We rode in different directions toward the hollow, the better to chance meeting with Emett, but none of us caught a glimpse of him. It happened that when we headed into the hollow it was at a point just above where the deer carcass hung in the scrub oak. Don in spite of Jones' stern yells, let out his eager hunting yelp and darted down the slope.
The hounds, traveling under the walls below, kept pace with us and then forged ahead, which fact caused Jones to dispatch Emett on the gallop for the next runway at North Hollow. Soon Jones bade me dismount and make my way out upon one of the promontories, while he rode a little farther on. As I tied my mustang I heard the hounds, faint and far beneath.
While in this helpless position and with no strength and hardly any breath left in him the lion was easy to handle. With Emett's help Jones quickly clipped the sharp claws, tied the four paws together, took off the neck lasso and substituted a collar and chain. "There, that's one. He'll come to all right," said Jones. "But we are lucky. Emett, never pull another lion clear out of a tree.
Dispirited and worn out, we trooped into camp to find Emett and a steaming supper. Between bites the three of us related the story of the red lioness. Emett whistled long and low and then expressed his regret in no light terms. "Roping wild steers and mustangs is play to this work," he said in conclusion.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking