It was life and death, heaven and hell.
I tried to call up former favorite views of mountain and sea, so as to compare them with this; but the memory pictures refused to come, even with my eyes closed.

Then I returned to camp, with unsettled, troubled mind, and was silent, wondering at the strange feeling burning within me.
Jones talked about our visitor of the night before, and said the trail near where he had slept showed only one cougar track, and that led down into the canyon.

It had surely been made, he thought, by the beast we had heard.

Jones signified his intention of chaining several of the hounds for the next few nights at the head of this trail; so if the cougar came up, they would scent him and let us know.

From which it was evident that to chase a lion bound into the canyon and one bound out were two different things.
The day passed lazily, with all of us resting on the warm, fragrant pine-needle beds, or mending a rent in a coat, or working on some camp task impossible of commission on exciting days.
About four o'clock, I took my little rifle and walked off through the woods in the direction of the carcass where I had seen the gray wolf.
Thinking it best to make a wide detour, so as to face the wind, I circled till I felt the breeze was favorable to my enterprise, and then cautiously approached the hollow were the dead horse lay.