Father has always held that when the Comanche Indians overran Texas in 1840, they were urged on by the Mexicans, who hoped to get back their territory, and perhaps believed that the savages would work such ruin to the republic as to make it easily conquered. SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR Under pretense of guarding against the coyotes, and preventing the cattle from straying, father and I moved here and there in the vicinity of the house during the entire night, and I took note that one or the other of those teamsters was on the alert whenever we came near them, which fact caused father's suspicions to increase rather than diminish, and we were thankful indeed when, at an early hour next morning, they took their departure. [Illustration] Five or six weeks later, however, when we had fairly good proof that they were carrying muskets and, perhaps, ammunition to the Indians in order that an attack might be made on us settlers, father regretted that he had not demanded to know what the fellows had in their carts. When I asked him what he would have done if he had discovered that they were carrying weapons, he said most emphatically that, knowing the Indians on the border were in a state of unrest, he would have taken it upon himself to stop the fellows at the point of the rifle, and would have sent me to Fort Towson, even though I might have been forced to go alone, in order to learn what disposition should be made of them. Mother said that it was fortunate for us that we had not done any such wild thing, for if the fellows had resisted our attempts to search their carts, and resorted to weapons, then we might have come out second best, for no dependence could be put in John and Zeba in event of a downright fight, for they were more cowardly than any other slaves I had ever seen. GYP'S FIGHT WITH A COUGAR Gyp and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves hunting. He was not a dog trained for game, but he had so much good sound common sense that immediately after we had treed and killed our first wildcat, he entered into the sport as if he had been always accustomed to it. Gyp was more like a comrade than like a brute. With the game as abundant as it then was on the West Fork of the Trinity, you can be assured that he and I, after the hardest of the work had been done, and when the sheep were not needing care, had some rare sport. It was my ambition to kill what is called a Mexican lion, or cougar. I knew there were several prowling around, having seen their tracks; once I came in full view of one when he was making a dash for a sheep and a lamb which had strayed some distance from the flock. [Illustration] Gyp and I hunted, day in and day out, without success, until one morning by accident we almost stumbled over one of the fellows. In a twinkling the cougar and the dog were fighting desperately, while I ran around and around them, fearing to shoot lest I should kill Gyp, but knowing it was necessary to do something without delay.