We threaded our way through this thicket, all peering into the bisecting deer trails for cougar tracks in the dust.
"Bring the dogs! Hurry!" suddenly called Jones from a thicket.
We lost no time complying, and found him standing in a trail, with his eyes on the sand.

"Take a look, boys.

A good-sized male cougar passed here last night.

Hyar, Sounder, Don, Moze, come on!" It was a nervous, excited pack of hounds.

Old Jude got to Jones first, and she sang out; then Sounder opened with his ringing bay, and before Jones could mount, a string of yelping dogs sailed straight for the forest.
"Ooze along, boys!" yelled Frank, wheeling Spot.
With the cowboy leading, we strung into the pines, and I found myself behind.