Having signaled till I was hoarse, and receiving none but mock answers, I decided that if my companions had not toppled over a cliff, they were wisely withholding their breath.
Another stiff pull up the slope brought me under the rim wall, and there I groaned, because the wall was smooth and shiny, without a break.

I plodded slowly along the base, with my rifle ready.

Cougar tracks were so numerous I got tired of looking at them, but I did not forget that I might meet a tawny fellow or two among those narrow passes of shattered rock, and under the thick, dark pinyons.

Going on in this way, I ran point-blank into a pile of bleached bones before a cave.

I had stumbled on the lair of a lion and from the looks of it one like that of Old Tom.