No man knows it, an' the cougars do.

Old Tom ranges all the ridges and brakes, even up on the slopes of Buckskin; but he lives down there in them holes, an' Lord knows, no dog I ever seen could follow him.

We tracked him in the snow, an' had dogs after him, but none could stay with him, except two as never cum back.

But we've nothin' agin Old Tom like Jeff Clarke, a hoss rustler, who has a string of pintos corraled north of us.

Clarke swears he ain't raised a colt in two years." "We'll put that old cougar up a tree," exclaimed Jones.
"If you kill him we'll make you all a present of a mustang, an' Clarke, he'll give you two each," replied Stewart.