“Well, then,” said Jones, “let’s split the pack, and hunt round the rims of these canyons.  We can signal to each other if necessary.”

So we arranged for Jim to take Ranger and the pups across Left Canyon; Emett to try Middle Canyon, with Don and Moze, and we were to perform a like office in Right Canyon with Sounder and Jude.  Emett rode back with us, leaving us where we crossed Middle Canyon.

Jones and I rimmed a mile of our canyon and worked out almost to the west end of the Bay, without finding so much as a single track, so we started to retrace our way.  The sun was now hot; the snow all gone; the ground dry as if it had never been damp; and Jones grumbled that no success would attend our efforts this morning.

We reached the ragged mouth of Right Canyon, where it opened into the deep, wide Bay, and because we hoped to hear our companions across the canyon, we rode close to the rim.  Sounder and Jude both began to bark on a cliff; however, as we could find no tracks in the dust we called them off.  Sounder obeyed reluctantly, but Jude wanted to get down over the wall.

“They scent a lion,” averred Jones.  “Let’s put them over the wall.”

Once permitted to go, the hounds needed no assistance.  They ran up and down the rim till they found a crack.  Hardly had they gone out of sight when we heard them yelping.  We rushed to the rim and looked over.  The first step was short, a crumbled section of wall, and from it led down a long slope, dotted here and there with cedars.  Both hounds were baying furiously.

I spied Jude with her paws up on a cedar, and above her hung a lion, so close that she could nearly reach him.  Sounder was not yet in sight.

“There!  There!” I cried, directing Jones’ glance.  “Are we not lucky?”

“I see.  By George!  Come, we’ll go down.  Leave everything that you don’t absolutely need.”

Spurs, chaps, gun, coat, hat, I left on the rim, taking only my camera and lasso.  I had forgotten to bring my canteen.  We descended a ladder of shaly cliff, the steps of which broke under our feet.  The slope below us was easy, and soon we stood on a level with the lion.  The cedar was small, and afforded no good place for him.  Evidently he jumped from the slope to the tree, and had hung where he first alighted.

“Where’s Sounder?  Look for him.  I hear him below.  This lion won’t stay treed long.”

I, too, heard Sounder.  The cedar tree obstructed my view, and I moved aside.  A hundred feet farther down the hound bayed under a tall pinon.  High in the branches I saw a great mass of yellow, and at first glance thought Sounder had treed old Sultan.  How I yelled!  Then a second glance showed two lions close together.

“Two more! two more! look! look!” I yelled to Jones.

“Hi!  Hi!  Hi!” he joined his robust yell to mine, and for a moment we made the canyon bellow.  When we stopped for breath the echoes bayed at us from the opposite walls.