"Do you know where we are, Tom?" called Ned, trying to keep up with his elder brother, slipping over rocks, plunging down into deep gullies and over great fallen spruces.
"Not sure," called back Tom, above the howling gale. "We can't begin to get down the mountain, though, to-night. Look ahead; it's almost dark now. I hope we can strike the old mountain house, that is, if it isn't blown down. We'll try; come on." This old mountain house had originally been built for a cattle shelter, to protect the stock which ranged across the clearings in autumn. A desolate, barn-like structure upon the summit of Cushman which the fierce storms had done their best to demolish.
"I see it," called back Tom. "Look! It's right ahead—a big black thing; it's the mountain house all right. Brace up; we've got to get inside. We're in luck to strike even this crazy old place." The old house, black and forlorn, stood there, its windows gone; through its empty casements the wind howled and whined. The flooring of loose planks flapped and tipped as the boys stepped inside. There was a rude loft, some timbers thrown across beams, where hay had been stored; against one side stood a rickety ladder.
"Wish we could start a fire; I'm nearly frozen," spoke Ned.
"No matches, anyhow and no fireplace in this old shebang," replied Tom regretfully. "Tell you what: perhaps we can find some hay left up in the loft and make a bunk; it would keep us warmer than staying down here."
They climbed up the ladder, and creeping cautiously over the wabbling beams upon their hands and knees, they collected enough coarse hay to make a small bunk, selecting the most sheltered corner where the boards were closest. Here, snuggling in the hay, they ate their last doughnut. The place was dark and still inside; as the storm raged, and rattled the old building, it seemed as if it would be whirled off the top of the mountain at the very next blast.
"Guess we shan't sleep much up here," commented Ned dejectedly. "Gee, I'm hungry; wish we hadn't been such pigs and eaten up our lunch so soon."
"Well, we might as well turn in and try to get a few naps; though if the storm keeps up I don't know how we'll get through in the morning," replied Tom. They snuggled down in the hay in their bunk upon the precarious scaffolding, being careful not to move about lest they might fall below, and at last went to sleep. While they slumbered the fierceness of the storm abated, the moon came out and little twinkly, cold stars shone in through the roof above them.
Suddenly, a swift tap, tapping sound beneath on the old flooring awoke the boys. What could it be? Then, by the moonlight which shone through the windows, they suddenly spied a young buck deer which had leaped into the room below and stood panting, head raised, listening, watching.
"Look, Ned! It's a deer," hissed Tom, spying it first. "It's been running; hear it pant. It's afraid. See it stand watching for something. Look! look! it's going to jump out that back window. Something's chasing it. Oh, look, look!" As they peered down a great cat-like figure appeared in the opening of the window, crouching there and glaring inside. It was a huge tawny panther. Its wicked-looking head was thrust forward, and its eyes shone like living coals. The deer, off and away by this time, had escaped. Then, to the great dismay of the boys, the panther sprang lightly into the room beneath them, and they clung to each other in terror, for the next instant the beast had lifted its great flat head, giving a baffled yell of rage which shook the old rafters. To their horror, instead of chasing the deer, it began to lope about the old building, snuffling from side to side, finally halting at the foot of the ladder, and gazing up curiously at the two trembling boys, sighting them as they crouched together on the rickety scaffolding.