CONCLUSION Kitty was not the only cougar brought into camp alive.

The ensuing days were fruitful of cougars and adventure.

There were more wild rides to the music of the baying hounds, and more heart-breaking canyon slopes to conquer, and more swinging, tufted tails and snarling savage faces in the pinyons.

Once again, I am sorry to relate, I had to glance down the sights of the little Remington, and I saw blood on the stones.
Those eventful days sped by all too soon.
When the time for parting came it took no little discussion to decide on the quickest way of getting me to a railroad.

I never fully appreciated the inaccessibility of the Siwash until the question arose of finding a way out.