One more instance: A gentleman of the name of Cartwright was in former years an extensive logger on the Snohomish River in the Puget Sound basin. At the time of the occurrence I am about to relate, he had a large logging camp about three miles above Snohomish City. There had been a deep fall of snow, and he left his home and went to the logging-camp to see how the operation was affected by the unusual snow. On his return late in the afternoon, he met a large cougar in the snow-beaten trail. The cougar slowly approached him in the manner described in the first instance. Mr. Cartwright was wholly unarmed; he tried to alarm the cougar by a wild outcry, but to no purpose, so far as the cougar was concerned. Some sixty rods away there was a bachelor's cabin. The bachelor had three fierce dogs and they promptly answered Mr. Cartwright's signal of danger; and their master, being at home, urged them to the rescue. When their welcome bay approached, the cougar ceased his purring, stood up, and soon leaped off into the dark forest and disappeared, very much to Mr. Cartwright's relief. He presently reached the river, unmoored his boat, and with the aid of a strong current soon reached his home.
An Experience of My Own
In the summer of 1855, I accompanied a hunting and fishing party, high up into the Cascade Mountains. Our route was along the Santiam River, and we made our final camp, at the west end of a narrow prairie, that stretched along for over a mile at the foot of the mountain ridge, on the south side of the river—a short distance beyond, was the highest table land, or dividing plateau of the mountains. The fishing was excellent—the hunting—it being the month of August, was indifferent; because the black-tailed buck at that season was lying in some sunny spot on the mountain side near water and grass—hardening his horns.
My companions in wandering or climbing along the brush covered sides of the mountains, had several times started a large buck who passed down the sides of the mountains by, to him, a well known but secret trail, and crossed the head of the narrow prairie, and then dashed through the thick brush by an accustomed trail to the river below. The space between this prairie and the river, was a succession of descending benches. These benches had before this time been covered with a very thick growth of fir. When this fir had reached the height of eight or ten feet, a fire ran through, and killed nearly all of it, and another growth of fir had sprung up, making the descent to the river an almost impassable tangled mass. As we were out of venison, it was proposed that I take two rifles and go to the head of this narrow prairie, while my companions should go up on the mountain side, and by the making of a great deal of noise, start this buck from his sylvan retreat, and when he came down the mountain and crossed the upper end of the prairie, I should improve the opportunity to kill him. The plan worked admirably. He came through the thick brush on the mountain side, and dashed across the prairie. When he was nearly opposite to me, I fired at him with my own rifle, but struck him a little too far back. Before I could get the second rifle in my hands, he was in the brush and out of sight. I reloaded my own rifle, and went to the spot where he was when I fired, and I found that he was shot through the lungs, because the blood came out in sprays; and as it came out on both sides the bullet had evidently, passed through him. I followed him up slowly, by crawling through the brush—sometimes on my hands and knees, and at other times, after the manner of a serpent. He stopped frequently. When he did, he left a small pool of blood. My judgment was that the bullet struck him while he was stretched out, and that the skin closed at time over the mouth of the wound; and that he was bleeding internally—I concluded that as soon as he attempted to go down a steep incline, the blood would rush forward and smother him.
I approached a gully or deep ravine, which he must cross, and I carefully kept a big ash tree, that stood on the rim of the gully, between me and the gully. When I arrived at the tree I stealthily looked down into the gully and saw the buck in a small open space, and also a large cougar, standing along his back intently looking at him in the face. I muffled the cock of my rifle, and soon sent a bullet through the cougar's head. He fell beside the dead buck. Disregarding the safe rule of the hunter, without loading my rifle, I slipped down the steep incline and with the breech of my rifle I straightened out his tail, and was just in the act of pacing to ascertain his length from the tip of his tail to the end of the nose, for that is the hunter's rule for determining the size. Just as I was in the act of doing this, a small quantity of fine white bark fell on me and all around me, I looked up and on a large limb of the ash tree, nearly directly over my head, I saw a female cougar. Her hair was raised up, her back bowed, and her tail rolling. She was crouched for a spring. I kept my eyes upon her, raised my powder-horn to my mouth and pulled out the stopper with my teeth—then felt for the muzzle of the gun and poured until I thought I had powder enough, and soon after found that I did have plenty. I then took a bullet out of my pouch and rammed it down without a patch—dropped the ramrod to the ground and put a cap on the nipple. Then I gently raised the gun towards her, and she showing a good deal of agitation, drew herself up into a menacing attitude as prepared to spring—but I quickly fired and she came from the limb seemingly leaping as though she had not been struck at all. I jumped back a few feet, but her nose brushed me as she was descending to the ground. She fell dead at my feet. I had my hunting-knife in my hand ready to plunge it into her if she moved—but the bullet had done its work effectually.
I have always been of the opinion that I shot her just as she was in the act of making a leap upon me. I loaded my rifle and then crawled to the top of the gully, and my companions soon joined me. I rehearsed my adventure to them, and after so doing, one of them went for a pack-mule, while the others sought out a passable route through the brush to the prairie. The mule protested against his load, but blind-folding allayed his fears.