As it fell from the tree, the little dog clung to the upper
limbs, and stayed at the top. Nothing they could do would coax him
down. The fir was one difficult to climb, so to save time the man took
an ax and felled the tree, which, falling gently against another,
precipitated the canine hero to the ground without harm. Later I had
the pleasure of shaking his paw and congratulating him on his bravery.
After many futile attempts, at last our opportunity to get a _Felis
Concolor_ arrived. We received word from a certain ranger station in
Tuolumne County that a mountain lion was killing sheep and deer in the
immediate vicinity, and having the promise of a well trained pack,
Arthur Young and I gathered our archery tackle and started from San
Francisco at night in an automobile. We traveled until the small hours
of the morning, then lay down on the side of the road to take a short
sleep; and rising at the first gray of dawn, sped on our way.
We reached the Sierras by sun-up and began to climb. At noon we met our
guide above Italian Bar, and prepared for an evening hunt. This,
however, was as unsatisfactory as evening hunts usually are.
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