No urging did his son need.  Raising his rifle to position, the lad squinted along the barrel carefully and then fired.

Above the report of the shot rang out an ear-splitting howl, and the mountain Hon turned to face the direction of the sound.

“Give him another, son.  You hit him, but not in a vital spot,” said his father.

Again Horace aimed and fired, this time with better success, for the lion dropped in its tracks.

“Good work,” praised Tom heartily.  “That was a mighty long shot to make.  Now if Bill and Larry only get something, we’ll have bagged a trophy.”

Elated at his success, Horace was starting toward his prize when his father called him back to help carry the pelt.

“My, but he’s a beauty!” declared the younger of the chums when they reached the carcass.  “I should hate to come across one suddenly.”

“They are not pleasant customers to meet,” smiled Mr. Wilder.  “I’m glad this fellow didn’t visit us last night.  Though why he passed the horses by I don’t know.  Mountain lions are great ones for horse or cattle flesh.  While I am dressing the buck you boys had better climb up to the plateau and see that our ponies are all right.  Take some of the meat with you and then we won’t be obliged to make so many trips.”

With a piece of meat in one hand and a rifle in the other, the lads started up the trail and, though they went bravely enough, each in his heart was a bit frightened.

“Pete says mountain lions usually travel in pairs, so keep your eyes peeled,” advised Horace.

But though they imagined several times they heard the purr of one of the prowlers, they reached the plateau without adventure.

The ponies were huddled together, tails to the rocks, and were sniffing the air in obvious uneasiness.

“Steady, boys, steady,” called Horace soothingly.  And setting down his meat, he patted each reassuringly.

The presence of the boys was an evident relief to the ponies, and after a few minutes they began to champ grass again.

“That lion must have come quite near, to scare ’em so,” asserted the young rancher.  “Pete says ponies are almost as good as dogs for watching, and I believe him.  They can smell things, oh, way off.”  And sitting down, Horace entertained his companion with stories of the keen scent of horses, which lost none of their color because of his lively imagination.  Indeed, he succeeded in getting them both so worked up that when Mr. Wilder’s hat appeared above the edge of the plateau each boy seized his rifle and aimed at it.

“What are you going to do, hold me up?” laughed the ranchman as he saw the barrels leveled at him, and then, as he noted the alarm on their faces, he added:  “Steady!  Put your guns down carefully.”

Laughing nervously, the boys obeyed.

“You are a fine lot, you are,” he chided, “to leave me to bring up all the meat alone.  Why didn’t you come back?”