It fell at once to their shots, and they dismounted and ran towards it.

Just as they reached it it came to, and seized one, killing him instantly with a couple of savage bites in the throat and chest; it then raced after the other, and, as he sprung on his horse, struck him across the buttocks, inflicting a deep but not dangerous scratch.

I saw this survivor a year later.

He evinced great reluctance to talk of the event, and insisted that the thing which had slain his companion was not really a cougar at all, but a devil.
A she-cougar does not often attempt to avenge the loss of her young, but sometimes she does.

A remarkable instance of the kind happened to my friend, Professor John Bache McMaster, in 1875.