CHAPTER III.
BAYARD BELL AND HIS CROWD.
The members of the Club had one and all made up their minds that the panther should be killed in the morning if he could be found, and they had resolved, too, that Mr. Gaylord and Uncle Dick should have no hand in the business. They had won glory enough already. Mr. Gaylord had lived in the country from early boyhood, and had trapped and shot scores of panthers, while Uncle Dick had more than once tried his skill on lions, tigers and elephants. The Club, however, could not boast of any such exploits. They had shot any number of turkeys, had eaten many a dinner of venison that they had brought home from the woods, and had been in at the death of more than one bear; but not one of them, before that night, had even levelled his gun at a panther. Now they had a capital opportunity to exhibit themselves, and they were determined to show the old Nimrods in the village that some folks could do things as well as others.
“We’ll never have another chance like this,” whispered Bab, excitedly, “and we must improve it. I know that panther has some of our bullets in him, and that he can’t travel far to-night. Go and put your alarm-clock in the stable, Walter.”
“What for? Don’t we want to get up early in the morning?”
“Certainly. But if the horse awakens us by neighing under our window, won’t he arouse your father and Uncle Dick also? If they know when we go out they will want to go with us, and that will knock all our fun in the head. Trust me—I will have you out of bed at four o’clock.”
Walter whistled for his horse, and the rest of the Club went up stairs. Tom followed his master to the barn like a dog, and after Walter had put him in his stall, he returned to his room and tumbled into bed. He did not intend to go to sleep at all that night, but before he knew it he was dreaming of panthers, wild-cats, and all sorts of savage animals. It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when some one seized him by the shoulder. He glanced at the clock and saw that Bab had been true to his promise, for the hands pointed to five minutes past four. While the boys were dressing they stepped about the room very carefully, for fear of awaking Mr. Gaylord, who always slept with one eye and both ears open; and taking their boots in their hands they crept cautiously down the stairs, followed by Rex, who seemed to know what was going on and to understand the necessity of making as little noise as possible. As they stepped upon the porch their hounds came up; and if some one had told them what their masters’ arrangements were, and why they were leaving the house in so stealthy a manner, they could not have behaved more sensibly.
It did not take them long to walk to the barn and saddle their horses; and in ten minutes more they were sitting around the fire, which was still burning brightly near the stump of the oak, comparing notes and waiting impatiently for daylight. It came at last, and as soon as they could see to ride through the woods, they led their hounds to the tree and showed them the limb on which the panther had been sitting. They did this so that the dogs might know what game they were expected to follow. If their masters had simply ordered them into the woods, they would have opened on the first trail they found, and it might have been that of a rabbit or coon. But now they understood that the boys wanted them to follow the panther; and they were so well trained that if a bear or deer had run through the woods in plain sight, they would not have paid the least attention to it. They smelt at the limb and began circling about the tree in search of the trail. They worked faithfully for a quarter of an hour, and then a long, deep-toned bay echoed through the woods, telling the young hunters that their efforts had been successful.
“Hurrah!” shouted Eugene. “To horse, my brave boys, and away! Hi! hi! Hunt ’em up, there!”
If you have never followed the hounds we cannot convey to you even the slightest idea of the melody that filled the forest when that pack of high-flyers opened in full chorus on the trail, or the excitement that thrilled the hunters as they flew over the ground, leaping fences, ditches and logs, each boy urging his horse forward at the top of his speed, in the hope of distancing his companions, and being the first to come up with the hounds when they brought the panther to bay. Walter’s nag took the lead at once, and with a few of his long bounds brought his rider to the place where the dogs had struck the trail. He saw the prints of the panther’s great feet in the snow, and every track was marked with blood.
“The chase will not be a long one,” exclaimed Featherweight, dashing up beside Walter and reining in his horse for a moment to glance at the trail, “for he is too badly wounded to travel far. Now, every man for himself, and three cheers and a tiger for the winner.”