After supper the guide cut some meat from the cat and fed it to the weary dogs, who had not succeeded in treeing a single lion, though they had come near doing so several times.  But they had sent the cats flying for cover, which had given Chunky and the other two boys opportunity to use their guns, though Stacy Brown, in his excitement, had failed to take advantage of the opportunity offered to him.

It was decided that the hunt should be taken up again on the following morning.  Nance said Stacy might go with Tad this time, Nance taking charge of the other three boys.  This was satisfactory to Chunky and Tad.

The morning found the camp awake at an early hour.  Chunky and Tad set off together, the former having been equipped with a rifle from the extra supply carried by the party, the guide having administered a sarcastic suggestion that Chunky tie the rifle to his back so that he would not lose this one.

Chunky made appropriate reply, after which they rode away.  The early part of the day was devoid of success.  They did not even hear the bay of a hound all the forenoon.  Tad took their quest coolly, undisturbed.  He had already gotten one lion and could well afford not to get one this time.  It was different with Stacy.  He was anxious to distinguish himself, to make amends for his blunders of the previous day.

About an hour after they had eaten their lunch they heard the bounds for the first time.  Tad listened intently for a few minutes.

“I think they are coming this way, Chunky.”

“If they do, you give me the first shot.  I’ve simply got to meet another cat.”

“You shall have it, providing you are on the job and ready.  These cats don’t wait around for a fellow to get ready to shoot, as you have no doubt observed.”

“Don’t remind me of disagreeable things, please,” growled Stacy.  “I’ve had my chance and I lost it.  Next time I see a cat I’m going to kill him on the spot.  Wait; I’m going to take an observation.”

“Don’t go far,” warned Tad.

“No, I won’t.  Just want to have a look at the landscape,” flung back Stacy, hurrying away, while Tad stretched out for a little rest, well satisfied to have Stacy do the moving about until there was something real to be done, when Tad would be on hand on the jump.

Stacy had not taken his gun.  In fact, he wholly forgot to do so, not thinking for an instant that he would have opportunity to use it.  This was where the fat boy made another serious mistake.  A hunter should never be beyond reaching distance of his gun when out on the trail for game.  It is a mistake that has cost some men their lives, others the loss of much coveted game.

Choosing a low, bushy pinyon tree as best suited to the purposes of a lazy climber, Stacy climbed it, grunting and grumbling unintelligibly.  He had hopes that he might discover something worth while, something that would distinguish him from his fellows on that particular day.