"I am the son of Kah-go-mish!" he shouted, exultingly, and before the fierce wild beast could free himself, there was Ping in front of him, spear in hand.
Any experienced cougar-hunter would have been inclined to say, "Good-bye, Ping," but the Apache boy was not thinking of the risk he was running. He knew what to do, and he put all the strength of his tough young body into the thrust with which he sent his weapon, low down, inside the animal's shoulder. The sharp blade went in, up to the crosspiece, just as the bow of Tah-nu-nu twanged again, and there were piercing shrieks on all sides. The loudest came from Wah-wah-o-be, as the cougar made a convulsive effort to reach his rash assailant, for over and over went Ping in spite of all his bracing.
He would have fared worse if the butt of the spear-shaft had not caught a better brace against the ground, so that the cougar did not fall upon him.
The blade had done its work. There were two or three more long rips made in Wah-wah-o-be's woollen treasure and then the cougar lay still.
Ping was beyond all ridicule now, for he had proved himself a young brave. Wah-wah-o-be was so proud of him that she had not a word of grief to utter over the mess of woollen ribbons which was all that remained of her best Reservation blanket.
There were no alarms of cougars nor of any human wild people around the Santa Lucia ranch. Even the dogs could hardly get up an excuse for healthy barking after dark.
Just in the dawn of that next morning, however, the cowboy on guard at the stockade gate was taken by surprise. Nobody rode up to the wooden barrier, but his quick ears caught a stealthy footstep behind him, and he turned sharply around with his hand on the lock of his rifle.
There she stood, Norah McLory, with a double-barrelled gun in one hand and a cleaver in the other, and a red shawl pinned all around her. She made a very striking picture, and the look on her face was very much as if she were ready to strike.
"What's up, Norah?" exclaimed the cowboy.
"Faith an' I'm oop mesilf," said she. "I couldn't slape for thinking of thim red villains."
"No redskins 'round here," almost yawned the weary sentry.
"Ye don't know that," said Norah, "and I wanted to see was you watchin'. We moight all be murdhered in bed."