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Updated: May 4, 2025
In truth the lioness was swaying over a chasm. Those details I grasped in a glance, then suddenly awoke to the fact that the lioness was savagely snarling at Moze. "Moze! Moze! Get down!" I yelled. He climbed on serenely. He was a most exasperating dog. I screamed at him and hit him with a rock big enough to break his bones. He kept on climbing. Here was a predicament.
Miss Ingate, not quite knowing what she did, with an equal vagueness followed her. "Come in. Do come in," urged Mr. Moze at the door of the study. Audrey, who remained on the landing, heard her elders talk smoothly of grave Mozian things, while Mr. Moze unlocked the new tin box above the safe. "I'd forgotten a most important paper," said he, as he relocked the box.
He kicked himself loose before reaching the bottom and then, yelping, he went out of sight among the boulders. Moze, as if ashamed, came whining to us. We slipped a noose around him and lowered him, kicking and barking, to the rocky floor. Jones made the lasso fast to a cedar root, and I slid down, like a flash, burning my hands.
She could not believe that distant populations could be at once so pathetically and so naughtily human as the population in and around Moze. If Audrey disdained Miss Ingate, it was only because Miss Ingate was neither young nor fair nor the proprietress of some man, and because people made out that she was peculiar.
The other outlaws stood up, and with one dark gaze at one another damned Anson's chance of life. And on the instant rose that terrible distressing scream of acute agony like that of a woman being dismembered. Shady Jones whispered something to Moze. Then they stood up, gazing down at their fallen leader. "Tell me where you're hurt?" asked Wilson.
"Hold him, one of you!" called Jones. "Not me," said Frank, "I'm lookin' out for myself." "Same here," I cried, with a camera in one hand and a rifle in the other. "Let Moze climb if he likes." Climb he did, to be kicked off again. But he went back. It was a way he had.
By George! that's great of Sounder to hang fire!" "Put him on the fresh trail," said Jim, vaulting into his saddle. Jones complied, with the result that we saw Sounder start off on the trail Moze had taken. All of us got in some pretty hard riding, and managed to stay within earshot of Sounder. We crossed a canyon, and presently reached another which, from its depth, must have been Middle Canyon.
That ominous, low murmuring awoke me with a vengeance, for it was unusual for them to growl in the middle of the night. I wondered if they, as well as the pup, had gotten the scent of a prowling lion. I reached down to my feet and groped in the dark for Moze. Finding him, I gave him a shake. The old gladiator groaned, stirred, and came out of what must have been dreams of hunting meat.
Ignorant, superstitious, worked upon by things as they seemed, the outlaw imagined himself at last beset by malign forces. When he flung himself down upon one of the packs his big red-haired hands shook. Shady and Moze resembled two other men at the end of their ropes. Wilson's tense face twitched, and he averted it, as apparently he fought off a paroxysm of some nature.
The lion lit straight out of the pinyons. I lost ground because of the thick brush and numerous trees. Then Moze doesn't bark often enough. He treed the lion twice. I could tell by the way he opened up and bayed. The rascal coon-dog climbed the trees and chased the lion out. That's what Moze did!
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