the Young Lion Hunter (1998) (16 page)

"Ken, have you got your gun?" I called.

"No, I left everything but my rope," he replied.

Then the two snarling lions brought me to a keen sense of the reality. Ken had a job on his hands: two almost full-grown lions to be kept treed without hounds, without a gun, without help from a companion.

"Say! this is funny!" yelled Ken. "Dick, I'm scared sick, but I hate to quit...I'll stick. I'll do what Hiram told me to."

It occurred to me then that Hiram probably had not noticed Ken was without his gun, or that I was separated from him by the narrow, deep chasm.

Ken began to bark like a dog at the lions.

About this moment I heard hounds, but could not tell their direction. I called and called. Presently a faint chorus of bays and a yell from Hiram told that his lion had surely treed.

"Waa-hoo!" rolled down from above.

Far up behind me, on the yellow cracked rim, stood Jim Williams.

"Where--can--I--git--down?"

I surveyed the walls. Cliff on cliff, slide on slide, jumble, crag, and ruin baffled my gaze. But finally I picked out a place.

"To the left--to the left," I yelled. He passed on with one of the hounds at his heels. "There! let the dog down on a rope and then yourself."

I watched him swing the hound, which I recognized as Ringer, down a wall and pull the slip noose free.

"This doesn't seem so bad," called Ken, who evidently was recovering his nerve. Then he saw Jim above. "Hi, Jim! Where's H-a-l?"

Jim put both hands around his mouth and formed a trumpet. "Hal's lost--somewhere--he an' the pup--split trails."

"Ken, it's going to be a great day--for all of us," I shouted. "Don't worry and stay with your lions."

Then I watched Ringer slide to the edge of a slope, trot to the right and left of crags and turn down in the direction of the baying hounds. He passed along the verge of precipices that made me tremble for him, but, surefooted as a goat, he went on safely, to disappear far to my right.

I saw Jim with his leg wrapped in his lasso sliding down the first step of the rim. The rope, doubled to reach round a cedar above, was too short to extend to the landing below. Jim dropped, raising a cloud of dust and starting the stones. Pulling his lasso after him, he gathered it in a coil on his arm, and faced forward on the trail of the hound. In the clear light, against that wild red-and-yellow background, with the stones and gravel roaring down, streaming over the walls like waterfalls, he seemed another giant, striding on in seven-league boots. I would have called him to come down to help Ken, but it was impossible for him to get to us. From time to time he sent up a yell of encouragement that wound down the ca+-on, to be answered by Hiram and the baying hounds, and then the strange, clapping echoes. At last he passed out of sight, and still I heard him going down; down till the sounds were only faint and hollow.

Ken was now practically alone with his two treed lions, and I knew that no hunter was ever so delighted. He had entirely recovered from his first panicky feeling. I sat there in the sun watching him. He stood on the slope, just under the edge of the pi+-on branches, and he had a long club in his hand. The situation was so singular that I could have laughed, but for the peril. The idea of Ken keeping those big cougars treed with a club was almost too ridiculous to consider, yet all the same it was true. For a long time the cougars were quiet, listening. However, as the baying of the hounds diminished in volume and occurrence, and then ceased altogether, Ken's quarry became restless. It was then that he began to bark like a dog, whereupon the lions grew quiet once more.

"That's the way, Ken. You're the best hound in the pack. You've got a fine bark there. Keep it up," I shouted.

As long as Ken barked or bayed or yelped the cougars remained comparatively quiet. Ken, however, began to weaken in voice and finally lost it.

"Dick, you'll have to bark some," he said, and I could scarcely hear him.

At that I willingly began to imitate Prince and Ringer and Mux-Mux. It was easy at first, but soon it became a task. I bayed for an hour. My voice grew hoarser and hoarser, and finally failed in my throat. In order to get out a few bays I had to rest for a moment. Soon I was compelled to stop. The cougars immediately grew restless and then active.

"Ken, you've got to do something," I called, in strained, weak tones.

The lower lion hissed and spat and growled at Ken, and made many attempts to start down. Ken frustrated these by hitting the cougar with stones. Every time Ken threw he struck his mark. Even this punishment, however, did not long intimidate the beast, and he grew bolder and bolder. At length he made a more determined effort, and stepped from branch to branch.

Ken dashed down the incline with a stone in one hand and a long club in the other. I tried to shout advice, but I doubt if Ken heard. He aimed deliberately at the lion, threw the stone and hit him squarely in the ribs. That brought a roar which raised my hair. Then directly under him Ken wielded his club, pounding on the tree, thrashing at the branches.

"Go back! go back!" yelled Ken. "Don't you dare come down! I'll crack your old head."

The cougar came almost within reach of Ken's club. I wondered at the way the boy held his post. Many as were the daring achievements Ken Ward had executed before my eyes, this one eclipsed them all. I was chilled with fear. I was in distress because I could not raise my hand to help him.

Ken must have been in an unreasoning frenzy. He ran round the pi+-on, keeping directly under the cougar, and intercepting him at every turn. More than once the beast crouched as if to spring, and was only deterred from that by Ken's savage attacks. Finally he had luck enough to give the cougar a ringing blow on the head. This, for the moment, stopped the descent, for the big cat climbed back to his perch beside his mate.

In the momentary lull of battle I heard the faint yelp of a hound.

"Listen, Ken!" I cried.

I listened, too. It came again, faint but clearer. I looked up at the lions. They, too, heard, for they were very still. I saw their heads raised and tense. I backed a little way up the slope. Then the faint yelp floated up again in the dead, strange silence. I saw the lions quiver, and it seemed as if I heard their hearts thump. The yelp was wafted up again, closer this time. I recognized it; it belonged to Prince. The great hound was on the backtrail of the other lion, coming to Ken's rescue.

"It's Prince! It's Prince! It's Prince!" I cried. "It's all up now!"

What feelings stirred me then! Gladness and relief for Ken dominated me. Pity for those lions I felt also. Big, tawny, cruel fellows as they were, they shivered with fright. Their sides trembled. But pity did not hold me long; Prince's yelp, now growing clear and sharp, brought back the savage instinct of the hunter.

A full-toned bay attracted my attention from the lions to the downward slope. I saw a yellow form moving under the trees and climbing fast. It was Prince.

"Hi! Hi! old boy!" I yelled.

Up he came like a shot and sprang against the pi+-on, his deep bay ringing defiance to the lions.

It was very comfortable, but I felt it necessary to sit down just then.

Chapter
XVII - STRENUOUS WORK

"Come down now, you cougars," yelled Ken, defiantly shaking his broken club. "I dare you now. Old Prince is here. You can't catch that hound, and you can't get away from him."

Ken had evidently contracted Hiram's habit of talking to cougars as if they were human.

"Oh, Ken Ward, it was tough on you," I said, "and tough on me, too. But we're all right now."

Moments passed. I was just on the point of deciding to go down to hurry up our comrades, when I heard the other hounds coming. Yelp on yelp, bay on bay, made welcome music to my ears. Then a black-and-yellow, swiftly flying string of hounds bore into sight down the slope, streamed up and circled the pi+-on.

Hiram, who at last showed his tall, stooping form on the steep of the ascent, seemed as long in coming as the hounds had been swift.

"Did you get the lion? Where's Jim?" I asked, in eagerness.

"Lion tied--all fast," replied the panting Hiram. "Left Jim--to guard--him."

"What are we to do now?" asked Ken.

"Wait--till I git--my breath. We can't git both lions--out of one tree."

"All right," Ken replied, after a moment's thought. "I'll tie Curley and Mux. You go up the tree. That first lion will jump sure; he's almost ready now. The other hounds will tree him again pretty soon. If he runs up the ca+-on, well and good.".

"Wal, thet's a good idee," said Hiram. "Hyar, Leslie, what're you doin' over thar?"

"I couldn't get across," I replied.

"Hey you been thar all the time, leavin' the youngster hyar alone with these critters?"

"Hiram, it couldn't be helped. I was unable to do a blamed thing. But Ken made a grand job of it. Wait till I can tell you."

"Wal, dog-gone me!" exclaimed the old hunter. He pounded Ken with his big hand, then he began coiling his rope. "Ken, you go ahead and tie up Curley and Mux. You, Leslie, git ready to run up the ca+-on an' keep track of this cougar thet's goin' to jump."

He began the ascent of the pi+-on. The branches were not too close, affording him easy climbing. Before he looked for even a move on the part of the lions, the lower one began stepping down. Ken yelled a warning, but Hiram did not have time to take advantage of it. He had half turned, meaning to swing out and drop, when the lion planted both fore paws upon his back. Hiram went sprawling down, with the lion almost on him.

Prince had his teeth in the lion before he touched the ground, and when he did strike the rest of the hounds were on him. A cloud of dust rolled down the slope. The lion broke loose and with great, springy bounds ran up the ca+-on, Prince and his followers hot-footing it after him.

Mux and Curley broke the dead sapling to which Ken had tied them, and dragging it behind them, endeavored in frenzied action to join the chase. Ken drew them back, loosening the rope, so in case the other lion jumped he could free them quickly.

Hiram calmly gathered himself up, rearranged his lasso, took his long stick and proceeded to mount the pi+-on again. I waited till I saw him slip the noose over the lion's head, then I ran up the slope. I passed perilously near the precipice and then began to climb. The baying of the hounds directed me. In the box of yellow walls the chorus seemed to come from a hundred dogs.

When I found them, close to a low cliff, baying the lion in a thick dark pi+-on, Ringer leaped into my arms, and next Prince stood up against me with his paws on my shoulders. These were strange actions, and though I marked it at the moment, I had ceased to wonder at our hounds. I took one look at the lion in the dark shade, and then climbed to the low cliff and sat down. I called Prince to me and held him. In case our quarry leaped upon the cliff I wanted a hound to put quickly on his trail.

Another hour passed. 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 an hour of enjoyment. Alone with the hounds and a lion, walled in by wild-colored cliffs, with the dry sweet smell of cedar and pi+-on, I asked no more, only that I wished Ken had been there.

Curley and Mux, yelping as they came, were forerunners of Hiram. I saw his gray locks waving in the breeze, and shouted to him to take his time. As he reached me the lion jumped and ran up the ca+-on. This suited me, for I knew he would take to a tree soon, and the farther up he went the less distance we would have to pack him. From the cliff I saw him run up a slope, pass a big cedar, cunningly turn on his trail, and then climb into the tree and hide in its thickest part. Prince passed him, got off the trail, and ran at fault. The others, so used to his leadership, were also baffled. But Queen, crippled and slow, brought up the rear, and she did not go a yard beyond where the lion turned. She opened up her deep call under the cedar, and in a moment the howling pack were around her.

Hiram and I toiled laboriously upward. He had brought my lasso, and he handed it to me with the significant remark that I would soon have need of it.

The cedar was bushy and overhung a yellow, bare slope which made Hiram shake his head. He climbed the tree, lassoed the spitting lion and then leaped down to my side. By united and determined efforts we pulled the lion off the limb and let him down. The hounds began to leap at him. We both roared in rage at them, but to no avail.

"Hold on thar!" shouted Hiram, leaving me with the lasso while he sprang forward.

The weight of the animal dragged me forward and, had I not taken a half-hitch round a snag, would have lifted me off my feet or pulled the lasso from my hands. As it was, the choking lion, now within reach of the furious leaping hounds, swung to and fro before my face. His frantic lunges narrowly missed me.

Hiram grasped Prince by the hind legs and pitched him down the slope. Prince rolled a hundred feet before he caught himself. Then Hiram threw old Mux and Ringer and Curley, but he let Queen alone. Before the hounds could climb the slope Hiram roped the lion again and made fast his lasso to a tree.

"Let go," he yelled to me.

The lion fell. Hiram grasped the lasso I had held and then called to me to stop the hounds. By the time I had checked them he had the lion securely tied. This beast was the bold fellow which had given Ken such a battle. He lay now, his sides heaving, glaring and spitting at us.