After a careful examination, Frank could discover but three foot-prints in the trail, which looked as though some one had endeavored to obliterate it, by drawing a heavy stick over it. He could not account for this, but he knew, by the blood on the snow, that the panther had been severely wounded by the shot he had fired at him; so, without stopping to make any more observations, he ordered Brave to “Hunt ’em up.”
The dog immediately set off on the trail, and Frank kept as close to him as possible. The panther had made good use of his time, for they followed the trail until almost four o’clock in the afternoon, without coming up with him. In the excitement of the chase, Frank had not thought of stopping to eat his dinner, and he was both tired and hungry. A few moments’ rest, and a piece of the cold venison and bread, with which his haversack was well stored, he thought would enable him to follow the trail until dark. He began to look around to find a good place to build a fire, when a loud bark from Brave drove all such thoughts out of his mind, and he ran forward to the place where the dog was standing, and suddenly came in sight of the panther, which had killed a wild turkey, and was crouching at the foot of a tree, just ready to begin his meal.
One of his hind-legs was entirely useless, having been broken by the shot from the rifle; and that it was which had given that peculiar look to his trail. How he had managed to climb so many trees, and travel such a distance, with his leg in that condition, Frank could not imagine. But he was not allowed much time to make observations, for the panther crouched lower over his prey, and lashed his sides with his tail, as if about to spring toward him. He was within easy range, and Frank cocked both barrels of his gun, and slowly raised the weapon to his shoulder. His hand could not have been more steady if he had been aiming at a squirrel. He glanced along the clean, brown tubes for a moment, and fired both barrels in quick succession. The gun had been heavily loaded, in order to “make sure work” of the panther, and the immense recoil threw Frank flat on his back. When he recovered his feet, he saw the panther stretched out motionless on the ground. The buck-shot had done its work.
CHAPTER VIII.
A Couple of New Pets.
FRANK was a big-feeling boy just then. He knew that he had done something that many an older person than himself would hesitate to undertake. He was fast becoming accustomed to scenes of excitement and danger, and he thought only of the feat he had accomplished, and not of the perilous position in which he had placed himself but a few moments before. What if his gun had missed fire, or he had only wounded the panther? How long could he and Brave have withstood his attacks? The panther would certainly have conquered them. And what could he have done if he had been disabled in the depths of those woods, so far from any human being? Such questions as these passed through the reckless young hunter’s mind, but he dismissed them with the thought that the panther was dead, and that he had nothing to fear.
The animal was one of the largest of his kind, measuring, as near as Frank could judge, fully seven feet in length, including the tail. The rifleshot which had broken his leg had made an ugly-looking wound, and he had received both charges of buck-shot in his head; but the skin was not spoiled, and Frank’s first thought was to take it off and cure it for stuffing.
Around the tree was a little space, which was clear of bushes, and was probably as good a camping-ground as he could find. So he placed his gun where he could put his hand upon it at a moment’s warning, and removed his haversack, hanging it up on a small tree that stood near. He then unfastened his belt, and took from it his blanket and a small tin pail, which was to do duty as a coffee-pot. With the aid of his heavy hunting-knife, he soon erected a hut—rude-looking, indeed, but sufficiently strong and tight to protect him from the wind. Over the floor he spread hemlock branches to the depth of four or five inches, and the camp was finished. He then kindled a fire in front of the hut, and filled his pail with snow, and hung it on a crane to boil. In a little while the turkey, which the panther had killed, was dressed, and cooking as fast as a hot fire could make it. Before his supper was cooked, the panther was hauled into the cabin, and his skin taken off, and hung upon a frame to dry.