“If he comes near, I’ll brain him,” said he.
Chap snatched up the shot-gun. It had been pronounced harmless to panthers, but it might frighten the brute.
The panther was now within four or five feet of the boat, and Phœnix stood ready, with his hatchet raised. Chap kneeled down, and leaned over the boatside, and as he did so, he involuntarily reached out his gun toward the panther. This action seemed to irritate the beast, and he was so near that he actually opened his mouth, and took hold of the muzzle of the gun. At this instant Chap pulled both triggers, and two loads of number two shot, in almost compact masses, entered the panther’s brain. When the boys looked at the water, there was nothing but a swirl of ripples where the angry head had just been seen.
“You’ve settled him!” cried Phœnix; but still he stood ready with his uplifted hatchet.
In a moment the body of the panther reappeared, now nearer the boat, one side uppermost, limp and motionless.
“He’s dead!” cried Chap. “Grab him! Don’t let him sink again!”
And, throwing down the gun, he leaned over the side of the boat.
“Look out!” cried Phœnix. “If he isn’t dead, it won’t be much fun to grab him.”
