"Oh, Ruth! you're mad!" cried Helen. "You mustn't go."
"Who'll go, then?" demanded her friend. "I guess we're all equally scared—Mrs. Murchiston and all."
"Nobody will go——"
"I'm going!" declared Ruth, firmly. "If the panther is coming from that woman's house—the woman who telephoned—then the pond is in the very opposite direction. I'll take Tom's rifle and some cartridges."
"But you don't know how to shoot!" cried Helen.
"We ought to know. It's a shame that girls don't learn to handle guns just like boys. I'm going to get Long Jerry Todd to show me how."
While she spoke she had run into the hall and caught up Tom's light rifle. She knew where his ammunition was, too. And she secured half a dozen cartridges and put them into the magazine, having seen Tom load the gun the day before.
"You'll shoot yourself!" murmured Helen.
"I hope not," returned Ruth, shaking her head. "But I hope I won't have a chance to shoot the panther. I don't want to see that awful beast again."
"I don't see how you dare, Ruth Fielding!" cried Helen.