After eating, the scout stretched out in the sun to seek council with his pipe, and the boy could not resist the temptation to once more try the trout. “Perhaps I’ll get a few for supper,” he told the scout. He had caught several trout and was trying to lure a big fellow from a gloomy retreat under the side of a rock, when the boy felt instinctively the presence of danger. He glanced up and his eyes were fascinated by what he saw. Not fifteen feet away was a mountain lion, with eyes fixed upon him, and his whole sinuous body in motion, with the appearance of a cat about to spring upon a bird. The boy’s rifle lay by the camp fire, but his revolver was in his belt, and his hand moved swiftly toward it. Then he remembered that Buffalo Bill had said they must make as little noise as possible. He would not fire a shot, even to save his life, for had not Buffalo Bill, in substance, ordered otherwise? He drew his sheath knife, gripped it firmly, strained every muscle to resist the shock that he knew was soon to come, and awaited the spring of the panther. The animal rocked its body from side to side, worked its claws in and out as its feet caressed the rock, and its whiskers twitched in anticipation of the feast in prospect. The boy saw the beast creep nearer and nearer, then move more rapidly and poise itself for a spring. And then there was a sharp, whiplike report, and the animal leaped straight up into the air, to fall back writhing in death agony. “Why didn’t you pull your gun, as you started to do?” asked the scout. “I remembered that you didn’t want us to make a noise,” answered the boy. Buffalo Bill extended his hand and said: “You are a brave lad, and I admire your courage and nerve, but I want you to remember that all rules must give way before a menace to human life--either your own or that of another. Use your best judgment, always.” Late in the afternoon the scout and boy had passed to the western slope of the range of hills and saw before them a valley, green and luxuriant, perhaps ten or twelve miles broad, and banked on the west by another range of mountains that looked high and forbidding. They stood out upon the high, bare rock and admired the beautiful land before them, as yet almost unknown to civilization. Only the trapper and miner and a few venturesome herdsmen had sought this wild country. About a mile out upon the plain was a small herd of cattle, and a solitary horseman watching them. Perhaps half a mile up the valley could be seen a rude hut, and about the door a woman and several small children. Even as they looked, a party of horsemen appeared on the plain to the southward, coming out from a gash in the foothills. It took Buffalo Bill less than half a minute to decide that they were Indians and that they had seen the herd of the lone rancher and were bent on mischief.