No. 500

NO. 500 By Lamont Johnson Buck Harris, district ranger of the Star Point national forest, swung easily out of his saddle in front of the Rock River village post- office. The several stockmen and ranchers assembled there were one cause of his stop and a letter in his hand was the other. "Hello," he called, and the men responded with friendly greeting. "Just got down from the mountains?" one of them queried, and the ranger nodded. "How's the stock doin'?" asked another of the group, for the cattlemen in Rock River Valley ranged their herds during the summer months on Star Point national forest. Because of this, they and the ranger had interests in common in regard to livestock and grazing conditions. "Most of them are doin' fine," answered the ranger. "Nearly everything is fat this season except a few old cows; they are not doing so well. Say, Frank," he added, addressing one of the men, "I found a yearling heifer of yours yesterday on Butte Ridge partly eaten up. I guess it's that lion that's been raising Ned on the range all summer." "Well, that's the second one we've heard about this week," de- clared Finley, owner of one of the largest cattle herds in the valley. "Joe Barton found one of mine the other day just above Butte Ridge and two more half-eaten carcasses were found last week near Star Point." "Something's got to be done about it right away," asserted Frank Gillis, owner of the yearling. The forest service or the government ought to take a hand in that. It's Old Monarch and that son-of-a-gun has killed five hundred dollars worth of cattle already this summer. We can't stand that much longer." "You won't have to," the ranger assured him. "The U. S. bio- logical department takes care of predatory animals. I'm sending a letter right now asking them to send a lion hunter out here. With a pair of good hounds, he'll soon put an end to the cattle-killer." Four days later the lion hunter arrived with two very officious- looking fox hounds. He remained in Rock River the night of his arrival and set out in the afternoon of the following day for the cattle range on Star Point forest. With him went two young Rock River hunters, Brown and Rich- ards, by name, who had offered their services free, acting as guides to the professional hunter, regularly employed by the government. His name was Caffey, and he accepted their company willingly. "We'll take up the scent where the last animal was killed," he announced to his companions. "If that was only five days back we can easily follow the lion. It should not take us more than several days unless he's been scared off this part of the forest."

542 IMPROVEMENT ERA They made camp in a convenient place on Star Point that even- ing and early the following morning the lion hunt began. It was late October and the aromatic odor of pines scented the quiet, hazy atmosphere. Indian-summer weather prevailed and even the forest creatures, roving unobserved and unmolested through the woods, seemed to revel in the delightful environment of the mountain world. For the last several years, cattlemen of Rock River Valley and sheepmen of neighboring districts adjoining the Star Point forest had complained of cattle-killing lions. Old Monarch was known to be the chief marauder for, while others of his breed had been trapped or killed without much difficulty, this wary old desperado had successfully out- witted all human ingenuity exercised in an effort to end his annoying and predacious practices. And the cattle-killing continued. Old Monarch had permitted himself to be seen many times, but an attempted near approach by the observer was sufficient to drive him to cover. The cautious old beast braved the charge of cowardice by thus frustrating all efforts to end his licentious career. By his long resistance of such attempts, Old Monarch had come to be considered the prize object of hunters and trappers working on the Star Point forest. To possess his pelt was enviously aspired by every sportsman in the valley. And the longer he withstood capture the more desirable became that pelt. Caffey, Brown and Richards set out from camp with the barest equipment necessary for the prospective several days' hunt. They re- alized it would be a continuous ride, once the hounds got the scent. Through the morning and until high noon they followed the winding trail up gently sloping mountain sides and through canyons heavy with trees and underbrush. Shortly after mid-day they reached the scene of the last killing made by the lion. Emerging from a clump of pines and spruce, the three men came upon the half-eaten carcass of Frank Gillis' heifer. They carefully examined conditions surrounding the animal in an effort to determine the lion's methods. The dead body lay near a tall pine tree which bore evidence of having been the hiding place of the great feline. Caffey pointed out numerous claw marks on the trunk. "The cattle-killer usually gets in such a place as this," he said to his young companions. "The lion is a cunning beast and chooses the quickest and best opportunity for making a kill." "Just as I expected!" exclaimed Brown, examining the tracks of the marauder. "It's Old Monarch. Look here," he shouted to the others, "there's one claw missing from the old king's right hind foot. He lost that in my trap three years ago!" The slight depression between the deeper marks of the other claws in the soft mountain soil plainly revealed that one was missing from the lion's foot. It identified, without a doubt, the killer of Frank Gillis' heifer.

NO. 500 543 And because it was Old Monarch, the two young hunters thrilled in anticipation of soon running down the proud king of- the woods. Even Caffey, with years of lion-killing experience behind him, livened with interest in the prospect of conquering the beast that had so long ruled the range in haughty resistance to every effort planned for his capture. "It's a shame, anyway,*' Richards declared, regarding the slaugh- tered animal. "See what's been wasted. It's not half-eaten, and that's a beauty of a heifer." "A cattle-killing lion usually eats enough to last several days," said Caffey. "In all my experience hunting lions' I have never found evidence of one returning to eat from an animal previously killed. They always take a fresh one and of course the lion may be many miles from where the last animal was killed. They can travel a long distance in one day; but in the meantime they'll eat lots of rabbits." The hounds were circling about the carcass, catching the scent. At a word from Caffey, when all was in readiness for the chase, they set off in a northerwesterly direction which was opposite from Rock River. The lion had followed a haphazard course, alternating in a te- diously irregular way from the direction in which it first started. Its tracks indicated also that it had adopted various gaits, some parts of the trail showing that the beast had taken long loping strides at a rate that would carry it far in a short time. Others of the lion's foot-prints revealed that it had ambled leisurely along, without evident object or purpose. Occasionally the hunters came to a tree where it had rested on a limb, very likely watching the cattle grazing about, though there were no traces of further killing or molestation. The lion's journeying trail led the three hunters over an exceed- ingly circuitous and interwinding route. The beast seemed to have possessed unlimited resource of energy, for its tracks extended over high ridges, part way down and up again, frequently circling back through deep forested canyons and across rocky elevations in a difficult and tantalizing manner. While Caffey and his companions found frequent opportunity to take cut-offs in following the hounds, they were required to pursue much of the round-a-bout way the lion had traveled. For three days the chase led on, the constantly increasing fresh- ness of the tracks indicating that it was reaching its end. Late each evening the hounds were called back for the night's camping, but early morning found the lion hunters again in eager pursuit. As the three closed in on their game, as they knew they were doing, the excitement of young Brown and Richards grew intense. Realizing that the monarch of Star Point forest was about to meet his doom, their ambition of several years crystalized into an enthusiasm that was only expressed by the highly alert and eager manner of their pursuit. Their jaded horses were urged faster in the chase and the utter quietness of the mountain world seemed to express regret of the im- minent finish of Old Monarch's career.

544 IMPROVEMENT ERA On the evening of the third day, the tracks bore evidence of having been made within the last few hours. They crossed and recrossed themselves an amazing number of times. The excitement of the young Rock River hunters, who were out mainly for experience, grew con- stantly more intense as the tireless foxhounds bore resistlessly down on their game. "Gee!" cried Richards, "Talk about Chinese puzzles! If this was night it would beat a heathen dungeon all hollow." "Or," Brown laughed, "if we could follow this at high speed, I fancy diving in an airplane five thousand feet up would have nothing on it for dizziness." As the night shades drew heavily down, the hounds showed greater eagerness in following the trail. Caffey, too, was anxious to wind up the chase, reluctant to extend it into another day as all signs proved that old Monarch was nearly run down. But the heavy darkness finally forced them to halt for another night's camping. The gray-colored hounds could not be seen and to shoot would be dangerous and highly ineffective. "We shall finish Mr. Lion in the morning," said Caffey, as they set up sleeping quarters and prepared supper. "Unless he gets one to- night, he has killed his last beef. But his tracks today seem to show that he has been stalking something and very likely he is in the mood for another attack. Three days is long enough to develop a real lion's appetite, after feeding on small rodents that long." There was no more than a hint of dawn the next morning when the hunters crawled out of their blankets. On an ordinary trip they would have lain in longer. The crisp October air penetrated with a shivering intensity and the autumn dew glittered like frost. As the three pulled on their clothes, their teeth chattered comically and their skin was goose-flesh. "I c-c-an't 1-light this m-m-match," stuttered young Brown as he knelt shivering over a pile of dry twigs. All three laughed heartily at his vocal awkwardness, but the others were no better off when they essayed to talk. A few vigorous jumps and arm-beatings started the warm blood to circulating and their eager anticipation of running down the lion within the next several hours helped considerably toward overcoming the cold discomfort of the frosty morning. As soon as the hounds were released, they bounded off to pick up the lion scent and the hunters were thoroughly alert for the moment of discovering the renegade King of Beasts. They had not ridden an hour before they overtook the object of the chase. After pursuing a direct and unfaltering line of tracks a con- siderable distance, the hounds were led off again in a confusing and un- certain crossing and re-crossing of the lion's trail. It had evidently been scouting about the previous night in an effort to locate prey. For the tracks finally led to a heavily branching spruce tree and the hounds set up a howl of discovery. On one of the lower branches, about ten feet high, crouched the lion, Old Monarch

NO. 500 545 himself, patiently awaiting the near approach of a young cow or calf, a number of which were grazing close by. It was quick work that followed. Necessarily so, as Old Monarch, put suddenly at bay, and crouching for a leap, drew himself in close to the branch which was shivering with his weight. But as his steely muscles loosened for the spring, one shot from Caffey's rifle settled the issue, and the King of Beasts thudded heavily to the ground. The three hunters stood watching the fallen monarch as he twitch- ed and twisted in the clutches of death. Then he was no more. For a moment they looked at the old king of the woods; a moment of silent admiration for the spectacular nature of his career. "How many does that make you?" young Brown asked with sudden curiosity, and the veteran lion hunter readily answered, as if he had just privately registered the number, "five hundred." "Whew!" ejaculated Brown. "Gee" cried Richards in the same breath. They regarded Caffey with increased wonder. Five hundred lions! "Well, the old fellow had some distinction — topping such a list as that," said Richards admiringly, to which his young friend added, "Old Monarch always had distinction." "Fourteen years," Caffey ruminated smilingly. "I've been in this business that long." He added quietly: "Each one gives me a thrill in knowing I've got my game, yet it's become quite a commonplace ex- perience-— like hitting a bull's-eye after a lot of practice." "But Old Monarch is not the same bull's-eye," Brown insisted. "He has out-witted a good many hunters. It's worth while to capture one like him." And Caffey seemed satisfied with No. 500. As they hastily prepared the cattle-killer for carrying back to camp, young Brown looked back in the direction by which they had come. "I wonder how far we've traveled after this old fellow," he said. I feel like I've ridden a thousand miles." Caffey grinned. "Don't you knbw where you are?" The two amateur hunters looked quickly around. A look of startled surprise appeared in both their faces. Behind and on each side of them, low ridges spread out in easy ascent, while one, occasionally high and inaccessible, rose abruptly. But the surrounding region was visibly not of the same deep-canyoned type as that encountered when the chase began. The look of sheepish surprise came when the two turned eastward. Broadly out before them, with but a few miles of irregular and gray- colored foothills intervening, was Rock River Valley, the little village lying drowsily in the foreground. Old Monarch had led them to within a rifle shot of home, as if to taunt his human antagonists with a killing deliberately in sight of their abode. But for the next two weeks, the late king of the Star Point forest was displayed, to the deep humiliation of all feline pride, in the wide front window of the village store in Rock River.