Therefore, we made for the point of the forest where it ended abruptly in the scrub oak.

We got into camp, a fatigued lot of men, horses and dogs.

Jones appeared particularly happy, and his first move, after dismounting, was to stretch out the lion skin and measure it.
"Ten feet, three inches and a half!" he sang out.
"Shore it do beat hell!" exclaimed Jim in tones nearer to excitement than any I had ever heard him use.
"Old Tom beats, by two inches, any cougar I ever saw," continued Jones.
"He must have weighed more than three hundred.

We'll set about curing the hide.

Jim, stretch it well on a tree, and we'll take a hand in peeling off the fat." All of the party worked on the cougar skin that afternoon.