We were talkin' back and forth when, all at once, Larry shouted again.
"Big game this time," he yells.

"Here's a cave and a mountain lion squallin' in it." I slid down to him at once, and we drew our six-shooters and went up to the cave openin', right under the rim-rock.

There, sure enough, were fresh lion tracks, and we could hear a little faint cryin' like woman.
"First chance," claims Larry, and dropped to his hands and knees at the entrance.
"Well, damn me!" he cries, and crawls in at once, payin' no attention to me tellin' him to be more cautious.

In a minute he backs out, carryin' a three-year-old goat.
"We seem to be in for adventures to-day," says he.

"Now, where do you suppose that came from, and how did it get here ?" "Well," says I, "I've followed lion tracks where they've carried yearlin's across their backs like a fox does a goose.