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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.
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