In the spring of 1890, a man with whom I had more than once worked on the round-up--though I never knew his name--was badly mauled by a cougar near my ranch.

He was hunting with a companion and they unexpectedly came on the cougar on a shelf of sandstone above their herds, only some ten feet off.

It sprang down on the man, mangled him with teeth and claws for a moment, and then ran away.

Another man I knew, a hunter named Ed.

Smith, who had a small ranch near Helena, was once charged by a wounded cougar; he received a couple of deep scratches, but was not seriously hurt.
Many old frontiersmen tell tales of the cougar's occasionally itself making the attack, and dogging to his death some unfortunate wayfarer.
Many others laugh such tales to scorn.