- extra plentiful this year, and besides a giant cougar, to whom the sparse settlers have given the name of Broken Fang, has been ranging there for some months, doing thousands of dollars' worth of damage to cattle and sheep. From the size of his track and the occasional glimpses of him, the residents of that section think that he is the largest of the great cats that has ranged in Idaho for many years.
The Old Colonel studied Hugh's face as he read. "Not very interesting, eh?" he commented at last. "My boy—he would be a trophy. I know something about that hairy old breed of mountaineers in the Upper Salmon country. They don't take the trouble to give a puma a name unless he's a moose. I know quite a little about pumas, too—or cougars, they call 'em. Usually they are about as dangerous as white rabbits. But once in a while one of them gets overgrown and thinks he bosses the range. If wounded—and sometimes by a long chance even if he isn't wounded—they put up a wicked fight. This big boy would be a trophy worth having; besides, you might pick up a grizzly or a smaller puma. There are always trout, and this is trout-time in the West. Why don't you go after him?"
The Old Colonel always put his propositions in just that straight-out way; and it made them hard to refuse.
