It was my ambition to kill what is called a Mexican lion, or cougar. I knew there were several prowling around, having seen their tracks; once I came in full view of one when he was making a dash for a sheep and a lamb which had strayed some distance from the flock.
Gyp and I hunted, day in and day out, without success, until one morning by accident we almost stumbled over one of the fellows. In a twinkling the cougar and the dog were fighting desperately, while I ran around and around them, fearing to shoot lest I should kill Gyp, but knowing it was necessary to do something without delay.
The two were rolling and leaping about, each with his teeth fastened upon the other, as you have seen two bulldogs fight, but for the life of me I could not get a fair chance to press the muzzle of my rifle against the brute's head.
Finding Gyp was getting the worst of the battle, and forgetting the danger, I whipped out the knife which always hung at my belt. Holding it between my teeth and taking advantage of the first opportunity, I seized that villainous cougar by the neck, and held him in such a grip that he was half choked and forced to loosen his hold upon the dog. This gave Gyp the opportunity he wanted to fasten upon the animal's throat.
[IN A DANGEROUS POSITION]
Gyp, however, was not sufficiently strong to win the battle unaided, and I had all I could do to retain my hold upon the beast's neck, not daring for a single instant to let go with one hand in order to use the knife. Consequently there I stood, clutching the back of the cougar, while Gyp snarled and tore at his throat without doing much execution.
It was just when I said to myself I could not retain my hold many seconds longer, and the beast might turn upon me, once my grip was slackened, that father came in sight. Then, as you can fancy, the battle was speedily ended. He picked up my rifle from the ground where I had dropped it, and holding the muzzle against the brute's ear, fired with such effect that on the instant the cougar ceased to struggle.
