"In Heaven's name, what do you call a look-severe?" asked Lord H----.
"Why, the French folks call it a loup-cervier," answered Brooks. "I guess you never saw one. But he is not as pleasant as a pretty maid in a by-place, is he, Master Walter? He puts himself up into a tree, and there he watches, looking fast asleep, but with the devil that is in him moving every joint of his tail the moment he hears anything come trotting along; and when it is just under him, down he drops upon it plump, like a rifle-shot into a pumpkin."
The conversation then fell off into a word or two spoken now and then, and still the voice of the waters grew louder and more loud, till Lord H---- could hardly hear his own footfalls. The more practised ear of Brooks, however, caught every sound; and at length he exclaimed:--"What's alive? Why are you cocking your rifle, Walter?"
"Hush!" said the lad; "there is something stealing in there behind the laurels. It is an Indian, I think, going on all fours. Look quietly out there."
"More likely a beear," replied Woodchuck, in the same low tone which the other had used--"I see, I see. It's not a beear either; but it's not an Ingian. It's gone--no, there it is agin. Hold hard!--let him climb. It's a painter. Here, Walter, come up in front--you shall have him. The cur smells fresh meat. He'll climb in a minute. There he goes. No, the crittur's on again. We shall lose him if we don't mind. Quick, Walter! spread out there to the right. I will take the left, and we shall drive him to the water, where he must climb. You, major, keep right on a head--mind take the middle trail all along, and look up at the branches, or you may have him on your head. There, he's a bending south. Quick, Walter, quick!"
Lord H---- had as yet seen nothing of the object discovered by the eyes of his two companions, but he had sufficient of the sportsman in his nature to enter into all their eagerness; and, unslinging his rifle, he followed the path, or trail, along which they had been proceeding, while Walter Prevost darted away into the tangled bushes on the right, and Woodchuck stole more quietly in amongst the trees on his left. He could hear the branches rustle, and, for nearly a quarter of a mile, could trace their course on either side of him by the various little signs of now a waving branch, now a slight sound. Once, and only once, he thought he saw the panther cross the trail, but it was at a spot peculiarly dark, and he did not feel at all sure that fancy had not deceived him.
The roar of the cataract in the mean time increased each moment; and it was evident to the young nobleman that he and his companions on their different courses were approaching close and more closely to some large stream towards which it was the plan of good Captain Brooks to force the object of their pursuit. At length, too, the light became stronger, and the blue sky and sunshine could be seen through the tops of the trees in front, when suddenly, on the right, he heard the report of a rifle, and then a fierce snarling sound, with a shout from Walter Prevost.
Knowing how dangerous the wounded panther is, the young officer, without hesitation, darted away into the brush to aid Edith's brother; for, by this time, it was in that light that he generally thought of him; and the lad soon heard his approach, and guided him up by the voice, calling--"Here, here!" There was no alarm or agitation in his tones, which were rather those of triumph; and, a moment after, as he caught sight of his friend's coming form, he added--"He's a splendid beast. I must have the skin off him."
Lord H---- drew nigh, somewhat relaxing his speed when he found there was no danger, and in another minute he was by the side of the lad who was just quietly re-charging his rifle, while at some six or seven yards' distance lay a large panther, of the American species, mortally wounded, and quite powerless for evil, but not yet quite dead.
"Keep away from him--keep away!" cried Walter, as the young nobleman approached. "They sometimes tear one terribly even at the last gasp."