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Updated: May 4, 2025
I was too tired to tease our captive lions that evening; even the glowing camp-fire tempted me in vain, and I crawled into my bed with eyes already glued shut. A heavy weight on my feet stirred me from oblivion. At first, when only half awake, I could not realize what had fallen on my bed, then hearing a deep groan I knew Moze had come back.
The hounds ceased their yelping and when untied, Sounder wagged his tail as if to say, "Well done," and then lay down; Don walked within three feet of the lion, as if she were now beneath his dignity; Jude began to nurse and lick her sore paw; only Moze the incorrigible retained antipathy for the captive, and he growled, as always, low and deep.
So he tried to throw off gloom and apprehension, but he failed. His comrades did not rally to his help. Wilson walked away, nodding his head. "Boss, let Jim alone," whispered Shady. "It's orful the way you buck ag'in' him when you seen he's stirred up. Jim's true blue. But you gotta be careful." Moze corroborated this statement by gloomy nods.
Rows of paraffin cans were ranged against the engine-room hatchway, and the odour of paraffin was powerfully conflicting with the odour of ozone and possibly ammonia from the marshes. Parcels kept coming down by hand from the village of Moze. Fresh water also came in barrels on a lorry, and lumps of ice in a dog-cart.
There, plainly in sight ahead ran the hounds, Don leading, Sounder next, and Moze not fifty yards, behind a desperately running lion. There are all-satisfying moments of life.
"Are we goin' to winter down in the Tonto Basin or over on the Gila?" "Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south," replied Snake, gruffly. At the juncture Moze returned. "Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail," he said. Snake rose and stood at the door, listening. Outside the wind moaned fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin.
It must have been a dark hour for the lion he looked as if it were and one of impatience for the baying hounds, but for me it was a full hour. Alone with the hounds and a lion, far from the walks of men, walled in by the wild-colored cliffs, with the dry, sweet smell of cedar and piñon, I asked no more. Sounder and Moze, vociferously venting their arrival, were forerunners to Jones.
I was riding in advance of Wallace, and a little behind Jones. The dogs excepting Jude, who had been kicked and lamed were ranging along before their master. Suddenly, right before me, I saw an immense jack-rabbit; and just then Moze and Don caught sight of it. In fact, Moze bumped his blunt nose into the rabbit. When it leaped into scared action, Moze yelped, and Don followed suit.
Suddenly the hounds bristled, and old Moze, a surly and aggressive dog, rose and barked at some real or imaginary desert prowler. A sharp command from Jones made Moze crouch down, and the other hounds cowered close together. "Better tie up the dogs," suggested Jones. "Like as not coyotes run down here from the hills." The hounds were my especial delight.
Moze, preoccupied and gloomy once more, steered himself rapidly out of Moze towards the episcopal presence, the image of the imperturbable and Jesuitical priest took shape in his mind, refreshing his determination to be even with Rome at any cost. "The fact is," said Audrey, "father has another woman in the house now." Mr.
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