The Black Panther of the Navaho

"I've got to turn back, Sid," gasped Colonel Colvin, as they halted at the foot of the vast slope that topped the second rim of the canyon like a house roof. "Climbing up out of here is a job for a young heart; mine would need half-soling before we'd ever make the rim again!"

From safety holds on tough pinyons that overhung the precipice of the second rim, they peered down at the chase far below. This second rim was an ungodly wall, perhaps a thousand feet sheer, and it no doubt cut a noticeable figure as viewed from El Tovar, where tourists at that moment were raving in absurd sentimentalities over the canyon. To the Colonel it meant a terminus, for him, of that particular cougar chase, for to add its weight to the labors already in store on the climb back would be foolhardy to one of his age. They watched the tiny black dots weaving slowly across the lower slope, that must have been the dogs in hot chase of the cougar, and after them came two oval specks that were Scotty and Big John as viewed perpendicularly from their height. Then the whole business disappeared over a ledge and nothing but the baying of invisible hounds came floating up from the far depths.