They waited some moments, watching and listening for a clue to the whereabouts of the wounded panther. Then, as the baffling silence continued, they advanced cautiously toward the place where they had last seen the glare of its eyes. They went forward very slowly, about a bow-length apart. It was very dark, and they realized that they must depend more upon their ears than their eyes to warn them of danger. After every third or fourth stride, therefore, they stopped to listen, while they peered anxiously on all sides of them for a tell-tale flash of those ugly green eyes. However, they neither heard or saw anything of the animal they sought.
“I believe that fierce Quenischquney is dead,” declared Spotted Deer.
“We must not be too sure,” Running Fox warned him.
He had barely finished speaking when they heard a warning growl directly ahead of them. They stopped and watched for a chance to shoot their arrows. The growling continued, and they heard the ferns rustling, but they were unable to locate the panther. They knew it was close to them, but for some reason they were unable to discover its eyes. For a moment they were puzzled. Then Running Fox guessed the truth.
“I know how it is,” he whispered, excitedly. “Quenischquney is crouching down in the high grass. I believe he is getting ready to jump.”
“Shall I send an arrow over there where we hear him?” asked Spotted Deer.
Quenischquney himself answered the question, for at that very instant he made his spring, and bore Spotted Deer to the ground. Running Fox saw a long black shadow pass before him, heard a short angry snarl, and then the quick startled voice of Spotted Deer. For an instant the suddenness of the attack bewildered him. He hesitated a moment to recover his wits, and then as Spotted Deer called to him he sprang to his assistance.
“O Running Fox! Running Fox!” screamed Spotted Deer.
“Use your knife!” cried Running Fox.
The next instant he was upon the panther. He plunged his flint knife deep behind the shoulder.