"I'm sort of sorry. Many's the time, camped on your bench land, which I own is a good place for cougars, I'd set up half the night to listen. They'd come purring so close I could see their eyes glint. Seemed to me they sat round on their tails and purred because they liked a camp whar there was no gun-smell. They sang love songs, big war songs, and all kinds of music. Fancy you bein' scared!
"Kill them? They're hard to see as ghosts, and every time you fire they just get absent. That ain't the reason though, for if the landlord wanted cat's meat, I'd like to see the fight."
"They'd never dare to fight that giant bear!"
"I dunno. Eph ain't lost no cougars. He treats them as total strangers.
"But the real reason I fed no mountain-lions to Eph is mostly connected with sheep. Cougars does a right smart business in sheep, 'specially Surly Brown's. Sheep is meaner's snakes, sheepmen is meaner'n sheep, and if the herders disagrees with the cougars, give me the cougars. Sheepmen is dirt."
There spoke the unregenerate cow-boy!
"But, Jesse dear, are you sure that Eph won't expect me to be 'spared' next time he's hungry?"
"Why, no. He was raised respectable, and there's a proper etiquette for b'ars on meeting a lady. It's sort of first dance-movements:—'general slide, pass the cloak-room, and whar's my little home?'"
* * * * * *
Jesse's Note