Frank in the Woods

by Harry Castlemon

A few moments’ walk brought the hunters to the cabin, and they went at once to the place where they had left the white buck. The panther had torn an ugly-looking hole in his throat, and he was stone dead. It was evident, from the position in which he lay, that the panther had endeavored to drag him away, but was prevented by the rope and the timely interference of the hunters. As regrets were useless, Frank and his cousin carried the remains of the buck into the cabin. After fastening the door and replenishing the fire, the hunters again sought their blankets.

The next morning they were stirring long before daybreak, and Archie busied himself in removing the skin of the white buck, while his cousin, who was impatient to commence his war upon the panthers, was employed in cleaning his gun and sharpening his hunting-knife. Brave seemed to understand that something unusual was on hand. In spite of the rough treatment he had received the night before, he appeared to have plenty of spirit left in him still, and acted as though he were impatient to be off.

“Dick, will you lend me your trap?” inquired Frank, after he had finished his breakfast, and was preparing to set out.

“The ‘Ole Settler’ do you mean?” asked the trapper. “Sartin I will. Goin’ to ketch the painter, ain’t you?”

“Yes; I’m going to try. I must have at least three panther-skins to make up for the killing of the white buck. He was worth more to me than my entire museum.”

“Wal,” said Dick, as he handed Frank the trap, “if you can get him to stick his foot in the ‘Ole Settler,’ he’s yourn, an’ no mistake. That ar trap sticks tighter nor a brother when it gets a hold o’ any thing. Now, be mighty keerful o’ yourself.”

“All right,” answered Frank. “I’ll have something to show you when I come back.”

He set out, with Brave as his only companion. The trapper did not accompany him, for the reason that he had work of his own to attend to; and besides, although he was constantly scolding and finding fault with Frank for his “carelessness,” he was proud of his courage, and admired the spirit that prompted this somewhat hazardous undertaking, and wished to allow him to reap all the honors himself. Archie and George did not go, for they were very anxious to visit their traps, and see whether there were any foxes in them. They did not like the idea of panther-hunting, and had tried every means in their power to induce Frank to abandon his project. Harry thought at first that he would be delighted to go, but, on reflection, he remembered his adventure with the wolves, and was fearful of another similar “scrape.” So, as we have said, Frank started out alone, with nothing on which to depend except the faithful Brave, and his own courage and skill as a marksman. He was well enough acquainted with the woods, and the animals that inhabited them, to know that there was danger in the undertaking; but he thought only of the disappointment he had suffered in the death of the white buck, and the pleasure there would be in seeing the panther that had killed him stuffed and mounted in his museum.

He followed the same course the panther had taken the night before, until he reached the place where the animal had taken to the tree and escaped, Here the trail, of course, ended; but Brave had no difficulty in finding it again, and from this Frank concluded that he must have seen the panther jumping from tree to tree, and had followed him, until the latter, seeing that he was pursued by only one of his enemies, had descended to the ground and given battle, which had, of course, ended in Brave’s defeat.