Mike repeated his question. “I see every other kind of trophy up there, but no lion,” he added.
Hank tapped the bowl of his pipe reflectively against the side of the fireplace. “Frankly,” he said, “I don’t think they’re worth mounting.”
Mike looked surprised. “I thought they were the best prize of all.”
Hank shook his head. “I don’t agree. Oh, they’re dangerous, all right. Don’t make any mistake about that.”
“How big do they get?” Sandy asked.
“They vary,” Hank replied. “Mountain lions or pumas or cougars—they’re the same animal, you know—are found all the way from British Columbia down to the tip of South America. And the farther north you go, the bigger they get. A full-grown male will weigh as much as two hundred pounds. That makes them bigger than an African leopard.”
“Then why don’t you like to hunt them?” Mike asked.
“That’s just it. I don’t hunt them.”
“Huh?” Mike was confused.
“I kill them. There’s a big difference.” Hank shrugged and reached for a match. “At least there is for me.”