Gripping my rifle, I listened.
I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds of something being
dragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to bark again, but now far back
in the forest.
Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether a bear
would eat deer flesh,, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolves had
disturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to me
suddenly--a mountain-lion!
I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imagining
every rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before the
thrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I could decide
to lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forest persuaded me
that the night was far advanced, and I fell asleep.
The first thing in the morning I took my rifle and went out to where I had
left the carcass of the deer. It was gone. It had been dragged away. A dark
path on the pine-needles and grass, and small bushes pressed to the ground,
plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I could not find the track
of the animal that had dragged off the deer. After following the trail for
a few rods, I decided to return to camp and cook breakfast before going any
farther. While I was at it I cut many thin slices of venison, and, after
roasting them, I stored them away in the capacious pocket of my coat.
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