"Plenty of turkey an' deer. Lots of bear, too. The Indians
have worked back on the south side early this fall. But I
reckon winter will come late an' be mild."

"Good! An' where 're you headin' from?"

"'Cross-country from my camp," replied Dale, rather
evasively.

"Your camp! Nobody ever found that yet," declared Beasley,
gruffly.

"It's up there," said Dale.

"Reckon you've got that cougar chained in your cabin door?"
queried Beasley, and there was a barely distinguishable
shudder of his muscular frame. Also the pupils dilated in
his hard brown eyes.

"Tom ain't chained. An' I haven't no cabin, Beasley."

"You mean to tell me that big brute stays in your camp
without bein' hog-tied or corralled!" demanded Beasley.

"Sure he does."

"Beats me! But, then, I'm queer on cougars. Have had many a
cougar trail me at night. Ain't sayin' I was scared. But I
don't care for that brand of varmint. . . . Milt, you goin'