Sid whipped out his revolver and was about to fire their private signal, when a warning thought bade him hesitate. Those dogs were far ahead of the horses. They were undoubtedly on the trail of the Black Panther, who would head here for his lair where he could be rid of them. If he fired, the panther would turn off and seek some other of his haunts, taking the dogs off with him and Sid would never be found. Far wiser to hold his fire and let him come! Besides, there would be doings!
Sid leaped up on a bowlder where he could command the whole canyon and listened with all his ears.
Ow-ow-ow! Ow-oooooh! A whole chorus of doggy music resounded through the forest up over the canyon rim. Pepper, Lee, Bourbon,—he recognized them all, and above the din rose Ruler’s mighty horn of a voice, deep, ringing, menacing. They were coming nearer, much nearer! And the cat would be on ahead of them, some distance ahead, most surely. It was time to be on the lookout for him. What should he do? Sid was still undecided whether to get into this with the little pop-gun .32-20 for grouse shooting, when the Black Panther himself appeared, galloping along the rim of the canyon,—his tail erect and bushy as any household cat’s as he leaped surefootedly from crag to crag. That tail was laughable! Sid whooped and jeered. Medicine panther, indeed! If the Navaho could only see him now!
The great cat did not so much as glance at him. He was making for the granite slab, hotfoot. Sid raised his revolver as the panther sprang down it. He ran like a fly over the smooth surface, and began bounding along the perpendicular face of the ledge. If he fired and hit, the cat would fall and there would be a knife-and-claw encounter—in a box canyon, with no escape for him and no adequate weapon to defend himself. That cat could strike with a blow that would tear every rib out of his body, and he would come with the quickness of lightning. Elementary caution told Sid to wait until the men came up with their rifles. They had the Black Panther at bay, now.
Meanwhile the Black Panther, with a single hissing snarl at Sid below, had reached the pueblo ledge and darted into his cave of refuge. Once inside, he sent forth a ferocious growl of defiance, warning all the world that he had reached his last stand and was going to be ugly if pursued further. Sid laughed, and watched the canyon rim.
Then,—“Ruler! Ruler!” he screamed in a frenzy of delight as the great hound appeared on the cliff face, checking himself, puzzled, as he came to the last cougar track on the very brim of the canyon. Ruler paid Sid no more attention than a flea; his mind was completely occupied in studying out this hot cat trail. He lifted his muzzle and gave forth a mighty bellow. A squealing and yelping back in the timber answered him, and presently Pepper and Bourbon joined him on the brink, their tails waving like flags as the dogs all conferred over the scent and then decided to circle.
“Hi! Ruler! Pep! Bourbon! This way!” yelled up Sid, waving his arm to them in the direction the cougar had gone. The dogs belled together in unison, then, and started weaving along the brink. Ruler ran out on another pinnacle and struck hot scent, where the Black Panther had only recently landed from his jump. He rolled off a barking-treed call and the pups squeaked and rushed over to smell it, too.
“Hi! Hi!—This way, Scotty! Hyar they are—over by the canyon! Wahoo!” resounded Big John’s voice far off through the timber. Sid yelled, and then heard the shout of Scotty answering Big John and the crash of his horse breaking through the timber. Then came a thundering of hoofs, and Big John rode up to the brim on the white mustang.
“Hyar’s the dawgs, Scotty!” he turned around to yell back into the forest—then he caught sight of Sid, down below!
“Well, I’ll be plumb teetotally hornswoggled!” he roared. “What in my-gosh-amen are you doin’ down there, Sid? Hey—Scotty!—Here’s Sid! An’ I’ll bet my boots he’s got the varmint down thar with him, too!”