“Whoop!” The yell leaped past my lips.  Quiet Jim was yelling; and Emett, silent man of the desert, let from his wide cavernous chest a booming roar that drowned ours.

Jones’ next decisive action turned us from exultation to the grim business of the thing.  He pulled Moze out of the cedar, and while he climbed up, Emett ran his rope under the collars of all of the hounds.  Quick as the idea flashed over me I leaped into the cedar adjoining the one Jones was in, and went up hand over hand.  A few pulls brought me to the top, and then my blood ran hot and quick, for I was level with the lion, too close for comfort, but in excellent position for taking pictures.

The lion, not heeding me, peered down at Jones, between widespread paws.  I could hear nothing except the hounds.  Jones’ gray hat came pushing up between the dead snags; then his burly shoulders.  The quivering muscles of the lion gathered tense, and his lithe body crouched low on the branches.  He was about to jump.  His open dripping jaws, his wild eyes, roving in terror for some means of escape, his tufted tail, swinging against the twigs and breaking them, manifested his extremity.  The eager hounds waited below, howling, leaping.

It bothered me considerably to keep my balance, regulate my camera and watch the proceedings.  Jones climbed on with his rope between his teeth, and a long stick.  The very next instant it seemed to me, I heard the cracking of branches and saw the lion biting hard at the noose which circled his neck.

Here I swung down, branch to branch, and dropped to the ground, for I wanted to see what went on below.  Above the howls and yelps, I distinguished Jones’ yell.  Emett ran directly under the lion with a spread noose in his hands.  Jones pulled and pulled, but the lion held on firmly.  Throwing the end of the lasso down to Jim, Jones yelled again, and then they both pulled.  The lion was too strong.  Suddenly, however, the branch broke, letting the lion fall, kicking frantically with all four paws.  Emett grasped one of the four whipping paws, and even as the powerful animal sent him staggering he dexterously left the noose fast on the paw.  Jim and Jones in unison let go of their lasso, which streaked up through the branches as the lion fell, and then it dropped to the ground, where Jim made a flying grab for it.  Jones plunging out of the tree fell upon the rope at the same instant.

If the action up to then had been fast, it was slow to what followed.  It seemed impossible for two strong men with one lasso, and a giant with another, to straighten out that lion.  He was all over the little space under the trees at once.  The dust flew, the sticks snapped, the gravel pattered like shot against the cedars.  Jones ploughed the ground flat on his stomach, holding on with one hand, with the other trying to fasten the rope to something; Jim went to his knees; and on the other side of the lion, Emett’s huge bulk tipped a sharp angle, and then fell.