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Find yourself in the pages of full cry as we dive into the archives of America's leading tree dog publication.

Join us as we look back at decades of stories, articles, and more written by those bold enough to follow the echoes of a hound.

It's in the bag by Dick Muldoon.

The lion I will always remember, I believe, was the first one I ever caught with the dogs that I raised from puppies.

It wasn't just my first lion.

It was the first of the very few I ever captured alone.

I had been down sick in bed for a week or more, either with the flu or from the results of a tick bite.

I'm not sure as it happened nearly 40 years ago. After getting on my feet, I decided to go south,

45 miles or so from my home in Independence, California, to a place. A friend had just seen

some fresh lion tracks just a couple of days before. I drove along a two-track road. Road is not

a proper description, believe me.

About three miles north of the main forest service of Haywee Canyon, on the eastern side

of the high sierras.

Parking my 1963 Chevrolet four-wheel drive pickup, I took my two dogs, a Mathis lion hound and a Walker foxhound bred

by Charlie Tant, and started the climb of about a mile or so up toward mud spring at the seven

or eight thousand foot level. I'm sure it took me a long time to pull the nearly straight-up trail,

as I felt weak from being laid up so long.

I had both dogs, neither of which was much past a year and a half old, coupled together and

follow me right at my heels as I had trained them to do. Steve Mathis had advised me to train my dogs

...