Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar Page #3

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the boat was shipshape.

For the next few days, the river drive

moved along in good order.

As one section was cleaned out,

the Wonigans moved downstream

to a new base of operation.

Today, that meant taking the Big Wonigan

through a rough stretch of white water

called The Devil's Elbow.

Now the crew would spot

the Big Wonigan downstream,

then come back for the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Jess was using the slack time

for some extra sack time.

And Charlie was killing a little time

with a piece of twine.

Charlie knew he'd done something,

but there was no way he could undo

what he'd already undone.

Well, in a case like this,

there was only one thing left to do:

Find the best vantage points

and enjoy the passing show.

Holy smoke!

What's going on?

Oh, no!

Oh, crock it!

It wasn't very far downstream that the river

men had come up against a tangle of logs

that manpower alone couldn't unravel.

Dynamite was the only answer.

Of course, they couldn't know

they were lighting a wick

that was gonna bust up something

more than a logjam.

Charlie moved in right on time

for the countdown.

Because there was one thing now

that was plain for all to see:

Charlie's river carnival

was headed straight for a flash finish.

Go back!

Go back!

- Dynamite!

- Go back! Go back!

Dynamite!

She's gonna blow!

How come you're acting so guilty?

It wasn't your fault.

Or was it?

Charlie!

Jess!

Jess, are you hurt?

- Man, we thought you was a goner.

- We sure did. Are you all right?

Oh, I'm... I'm fine.

Just fine.

The long chain of circumstances

that started on the river drive

finally ended up back at the mill,

with Charlie on the short end.

You see, when the big boss

started adding lost man hours

to mangled groceries,

to busted-up Wonigans,

he decided to subtract one cougar.

And he ordered Jess

to keep a curb on that cat.

Charlie didn't like the new setup at all.

He had the growing feeling

that he was getting left out,

put upon and neglected.

What's more, he was just plain bored.

Then Charlie heard the sound

of folks having fun.

What Charlie heard

was a bunch of the boys a-whoopin' it up

with a noon-hour roll-eo.

Round and round she goes,

and where she stops nobody knows.

Well, here came the river cat that once

rode a log 21 miles through 25 rapids.

As soon as there was an opening,

he was gonna get in there

and really give that thing a whirl.

OK, who's next?

Come on, I want some competition.

How about you?

Come over. Hey, Mike, come on over.

Come on, Ed.

You're the guy I want to get on here.

Hey, now this is gonna be a ride!

Come on, Charlie.

You asked for it.

- I'll cover all bets.

- I'll take five of that.

Roll him under, Jimmy.

Charlie had the edge

with his four-wheel drive.

The only thing now that could

cut him out of first place was... Chainsaw.

Charlie was too shook up to catch up.

Cut it out, Chainsaw.

Don't shorten my odds.

His chances for victory

went right down the drain.

Thanks a lot, Charlie.

It was Chainsaw!

Somebody drown that dog!

No, you don't.

He won money for me.

OK, wise guy, next time you're gonna get

a shorter chain and a tighter collar.

All right, you guys,

this is a saw mill, not a side show.

Let's cut some lumber, huh?

I'm sorry, Cliff, I don't know how

he got loose. It won't happen again.

Maybe we better make sure

it doesn't, Jess.

OK. I'll keep him at home from now on.

Charlie's sure gonna miss

his friends around here.

- Well, his friends will miss Charlie, too.

- Yeah.

Come on, Charlie.

Let's get out of here.

And so the free-roaming days were over.

Even worse, Jess was in town

about eight nights a week now.

It seems a certain nurse just might be

the cure for his "bacheloritis".

So, Charlie was left

right in the middle of all this quiet,

with not one thing to do.

He was just about the lonesomest

cougar in all of Carbon County.

But this particular evening,

things took a turn for the better.

It happened right on

the stroke of moonrise.

There was music in the air.

What Charlie wanted

was to move in for a little closer harmony.

If he could just get himself unpacked

from this cougar crate.

There's no doubt that Charlie

was a mighty smart cat.

But he did have one flat spot

in his well-rounded education:

He still hadn't learned he was a cougar.

Now he got the big news

from old Mother Nature...

...and a young cougarette.

Hallelujah and howdy-do!

Now these two teenagers

were too young to be mates,

but they were just right to be playmates.

Their first moonlight madness

finally tapered off

into a more leisurely moonlight stroll.

And when that was over, they'd covered

about 25 miles of mountain.

They were both plum tuckered out.

So one last little tussle,

then taking a rest for the rest of the night

seemed a mighty good idea.

First thing next morning,

the cougars hit the happiness trail again.

Charlie had never seen snow before,

but his new friend got the ball rolling.

That started a regular winter carnival

for cougars.

Charlie figured the fun was done

at the end of the slide,

but little Miss Patty Paws

was working up something new.

With all that exercise, the two youngsters

had built up

a couple of full-sized appetites.

Now being born to the wild,

and mountain brought-up,

the lady cat knew all about

rounding up vittles for breakfast.

"Finders, keepers"

is part of a cougar's code.

But Charlie hadn't read that book.

He saw that somehow

his friend had found food,

and he mistook that look

for "Come and get it". So he did.

And he got it.

Well, thanks a lot and so long, sister.

Right about now, Charlie began

to realize he wasn't just hungry,

he was homesick too.

But where was home?

Maybe just over this ridge.

Nope, that wasn't it.

But surely those kindly folks down there

would give a poor, lonesome cougar

a bite to eat.

As it turned out, Charlie

did hit feeding time right on the button.

But it seems another breed of cat

had the inside track

with the friendly folks around here.

Right now, they were enjoying

their morning target duty

for the boss's

milksmanship marksmanship.

Kitty, kitty, kitty...

And Bronco!

Chester, come on, baby.

There you go, kitten.

There you go.

Bronco, Bronco, baby. There you go.

Bronco, there you go.

Get that!

By now, Charlie had caught

the inviting scent of that warm, fresh milk.

So, might as well accept the invitation.

Whoop... Better hold up for a minute

and mind his manners

until those poor little underfed cousins

had their fill.

Then, when they moved out,

he'd move in.

Bronco, come on.

There you go.

Jesse, Jesse.

Come on, there you go, kitty.

Chico, come on.

There you go.

Chic... Chic-ooh!

Charlie was a little embarrassed.

He didn't know what he'd done,

but maybe if he cleaned up the mess

that nice man would hurry back

and talks things over,

friendly-like and peaceable.

Blackie, the farm dog,

figured that shot meant

the boss was going hunting.

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