"It's the Indian devil!" exclaimed Jack Johnston, under his breath. "He's eaten the partridges, and now he wants to eat us."
We fully realized our danger, and after the first shock of fright braced ourselves to meet it with a determined front. Johnston, as the eldest and coolest of the three, took command.
"Charlie," said he, "you must let him have Dutchie full in the face the moment we sight him.—Hal, you blaze away with your shot-gun, and I'll stand by to finish him with my tomahawk."
nodding assent to these directions, we stood side by side, gazing eagerly into the forest gloom.
"There he is!" said Johnston. "See! on that big limb."
We followed the direction of his finger, and saw the brute clearly enough, stretched upon a limb not twelve yards away, his great green eyes glaring horribly at us.
"Quick, Charlie!" cried Jack. "He's going to spring. Rest your gun on my shoulder, and aim for his chest."
Charlie did as he was bid, and pulled the trigger. Bang went the old musket with a tremendous report. Over went Charlie on his back, his shoulder well-nigh dislocated by the kick of his weapon; and down came the panther to the ground, badly wounded in his neck and breast. The instant he touched ground I let him have the contents of my shot-gun. But they only served to bother him for a moment, and looking terrible in his fury, he was just gathering himself for a spring into our midst, when Johnston, stepping forward, sent his tomahawk whizzing through the air with all the force of his strong right arm.
"JOHNSTON SENT HIS TOMAHAWK WHIZZING THROUGH THE AIR."