The Glenwood post. (Glenwood Springs, Colo.) 1897-current, 1921-01-15

DIG cat WOulO nave preferred TO finger,
a mOtionless thing in the thickets,
hoping some other member of the deer
herd to which the doe must have be
longed would come into his ambush.
But the hunt was late, and Whisper
foot was very, very angry. Too many
times this night he had missed his
kill. In desperation, he leaped from
the thicket and charged the deer.
In spite of the preponderant odds
against him, the charge was almost
success. He went fully half the dis
lance between them before the deer
perceived him. Then she leaped.
There seemed to be no interlude of
time between the instant that she be-
held the dim, tawny figure in the air
and that in which her long legs pushed
out in spring. But she didn't leap
straight ahead She knew enough of
the cougars to know that the great
cat would certainly aim for her head
and neck in the same way that duck
hunter leads fast-fying duck-hop-
ing to intercept her leap. Even as her
feet left the ground she seemed to
whirl in the air, and the deadly talons
whipped down in vain. Then, cutting
back in front, she raced down wind.
1t is usually the most unmitigated
folly for cougar to chase deer
against which he has missed his
stroke; and 1t is also quite fatal to his
dignity And whoever doubts for
minute that the larger creatures have
no dignity, and that 1t is not very dear
to them, simply knows nothing about
the ways of animals. They cling to
1t to the death. But tonight one dis
appointment after another had crum-
bled, as the rains crumble leaves, the
last vesttge of Whisperfoots self-con-
troll. Snarllng in fury, he bounded
after the doe.
She was lost to sight at once in
the darkness, but for fully thirty yards
he raced in her pursuit. If he had
stopped to think, 1t would have been
one of the really great surprises Of
his life to hear the sudden. unmis-
taxable stir and movement of a large,
living creature not fifteen feet distant
In the thicket.
He didn't stop to think at all. He
didn't puzzle on the extreme unllkeli-
hood Of doe hating in her flight from
cougar It is doubtful whether. in
the thickets. he had any perceptions
Of the creature other than its move
ments. He was running down wind,
SO 1t Is certain that he didn't smell it.
If he saw it at all. It was just as
shadow, sufficiently large to be that
of deer. 1t was moving, crawling as
Wool the bear sometimes crawled.
seemingly to get out of his path. And
Whisperfoot leaped straight at it.
It was perfect shot. He landed
high on its shoulders. His head dashed
down. and the white teeth closed. All
the long life of his race he had known
that pungent essence that flowed forth.
His senses perceived 1t, a message
shot along his nerves to hishrain. And
then he opened his mouth in high,
far-carrying squeal of utter. abject
terror.
He sprang a full fifteen feet back
Into the thickets; then crouched. The
hair stood still at his shoulders, his
claws were barred; he was prepared
to fight to the death. He didn't under
stand. He only knew the worst single
terror Of his life. It was not doe
that he had attacked In the darkness.
1t was not Urson the porcupine, or
even Wool. 1t was that imperial mas
ter Of all things. man himself. Un-
knowing, he had attacked Landy Hill
dreth, lying wounded from Cranston's
bullet beside the trail. Word of the
arson ring would never reach the set
| Elements, after all.
| And as for Whisperfoot-the terror
that choked his heart with blood be-
| gan to wear off in little while. The
man lay so still in the Tickets Be
sides. there was n strange, Wild smell
! In the air. Whisperfoot's stroke had
gone home so true there had not even
been fight The darkness began to
| lift around him, and strange exulta-
| ton, rapture unknown before in all
| his hunting, began TO creep into his
wild blood Then. as n shadow steals,
he went creeping hack to his dead.
Dan Failing had been studying ma
ture on the high ridges and he went
home by n back trail that led to old
I
Bald mountain. The trail was Just
narrow serpent in the brush; and
1t had not been made by gangs of
laborers, working with shovels and
picks. Possibly half a dozen white
men. In all. had ever walked along It.
1t was Just the path of the Wild crea-
lures, worn down by hoof and paw
and cushion since the young days of
the world
1t was roundabout trail home,
but yet 1t had its advantages. It took
him within two miles of Snowbird's
lookout station, and at this hour Of
day he had been particularly fortunate
In finding her at certain spring on
the mountain side. 1t was rather sin
gular coincidence. Along about four
| he would uSually And bImSoIr ,,.ondar