In a soft place in the ground, just where he was about to set his foot, Jack saw some peculiar marks.
"The tracks of a mountain lion!" Jim exclaimed in a whisper. "He's been here only a short time ago, for the marks are fresh. Look out, now, boys!"
The three lads needed no other caution. They got ready with their rifles, while Jim advanced a bit to see in which direction the beast had gone.
"Follow me," he said in a whisper as he came back. "He must be just ahead of us, and the wind is blowing from him to us. We ought to get him!"
Stepping as cautiously as possible, and taking care not to tread on loose stones, or sticks, that would break and betray their presence, the four began stalking the lion. That they were coming closer to the beast was evidenced by the increasing plainness of the tracks.
"He's heading for his den," whispered Jim. "We must get him before he reaches it or we'll lose him."
There was a sort of path along which the hunters were traveling, and which seemed to be one regularly used by the lion. It made a sudden turn, to get past a big boulder that jutted out from the side of the hill. As Jim and the boys rounded this, they came to an abrupt halt, and each one gazed with startled eyes at a ledge of rock, just beyond and ahead of them.
There, in full view, with the sun streaming down on him, was an immense mountain lion. He was facing away from the hunters, and this, with the fact that the wind was blowing from him to them, had enabled them to get within a hundred yards.
Slowly Jim leveled his rifle. Then he seemed to think of something, and stopped.
"You boys try, all together," he said in such a faint whisper that it sounded like the breeze. "If you miss I'll bowl him over."