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?
The cougar had been struck in the forehead, and no longer breathed.
We stood together in a group, and I looked in vain for the cougar.
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!