What between the blow of the cougar and the force of the fall, the big-horn was dead.
Two Arrows wiped the blood of the cougar from the blade of his lance.
But now the hounds were too quick, and in a trice they had the cougar surrounded.
No cougar stalking its prey could have been more lithely wary.
Perhaps the coyotes were over there; or could it be a cougar or a bear?
We stood together in a group, and I looked in vain for the cougar.
The cougar had been struck in the forehead, and no longer breathed.
Had the cougar got away, or was he still within the thicket?
He would not have been a cougar if he had not made a spring in seizing upon his prey.
It was now too late to relieve them—the cougar was within a hundred yards of the camp!