Old Belle, the greatest fighter of them all,
was gone. She must have met her death at the claws of the cougar, for
nothing else could keep her. This ended that particular lion hunt.
In our travels over California in search for cougars, we have picked up
more tales than trails of the big cats.
Just before one of my visits to Gorda, on the Monterey Coast, a panther
visited the Mansfield ranch in broad daylight. Jasper being up on the
mountainside after deer, his wife, left at home with the two little
children, noticed a very large lion out in the pasture back of the
house. It wandered among the cattle in a most unconcerned manner and
did not even cause a stir. While it did not approach any of the cows
very closely, they seemed to be not in the least alarmed. For half an
hour or more it stayed in the neighborhood of the house, where Mrs.
Mansfield locked herself in and waited for her husband's return. It was
not until evening, and too late to track the beast, that Jasper came
home. So no capture was made.
Some time before this, one of the hired hands on the ranch was going to
his cabin in the dusk; and swinging his hand idly to catch the tops of
tall grass by the side of the path, he suddenly touched something warm
and soft.
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