“It’s Don!  It’s Don!  It’s Don!” I cried, shaking my club at the lions.  “It’s all up with you now!” What feelings stirred me then!  Pity for those lions dominated me.  Big, tawny, cruel fellows as they were, they shivered with fright.  Their sides trembled.  But pity did not hold me long; Don’s yelp, now getting clear and sharp, brought back the rush of savage, grim sensations.

A full-toned bay attracted my attention from the lions to the downward slope.  I saw a yellow form moving under the trees and climbing fast.  It was Don.

“Hi!  Hi! old boy!” I yelled.

Then it seemed he moved up like a shot and stood all his long length, forepaws against the pinon, his deep bay ringing defiance to the lions.

It was a great relief, not to say a probable necessity, for me to sit down just then.

“Now come down,” I said to my lions; “you can’t catch that hound, and you can’t get away from him.”

Moments passed.  I was just on the point of deciding to go down to hurry up my comrades, when I heard the other hounds coming.  Yelp on yelp, bay on bay, made welcome music to my ears.  Then a black and yellow, swiftly flying string of hounds bore into sight down the slope, streaked up and circled the pinon.

Jones, who at last showed his tall stooping form on the steep ascent, seemed as long in coming as the hounds had been swift.

“Did you get the lion?  Where’s Emett?” I asked in breathless eagerness.

“Lion tied—­all fast,” replied the panting Jones.  “Left Emett—­to guard—­him.”

“What are we to do now?”

“Wait—­till I get my breath.  Think out—­a plan.  We can’t get both lions—­out of one tree.”

“All right,” I replied, after a moment’s thought.  “I’ll tie Sounder and Moze.  You go up the tree.  That first lion will jump, sure; he’s almost ready now.  Don and the other hounds will tree him again pretty soon.  If he runs up the canyon, well and good.  Then, if you can get the lasso on the other, I’ll yell for Emett to come up to help you, and I’ll follow Don.”

Jones began the ascent of the pinon.  The branches were not too close, affording him easy climbing.  Before we looked for even a move on the part of the lions, the lower one began stepping down.  I yelled a warning, but Jones did not have time to take advantage of it.  He had half turned, meaning to swing out and drop, when the lion planted both forepaws upon his back.  Jones went sprawling down with the lion almost on him.

Don had his teeth in the lion before he touched the ground, and when he did strike the rest of the hounds were on him.  A cloud of dust rolled down the slope.  The lion broke loose and with great, springy bounds ran up the canyon, Don and his followers hot-footing it after him.

Moze and Sounder broke the dead sapling to which I had tied them, and dragging it behind them, endeavored in frenzied action to join the chase.  I drew them back, loosening the rope, so in case the other lion jumped I could free them quickly.