"Guess I fixed him then," said Tom triumphantly. The panther gave a baffled howl of pain and rage, and deciding that the place was no spot to tarry in, it leaped out and disappeared.
"You hit him! I know you did," declared Ned admiringly.
"Had to; it was my last shot," replied Tom, wiping his damp forehead with his jacket sleeve. "And say, Ned, I call it a narrow escape."
"Think he'll come back?" asked Ned rather huskily, nursing his wrist.
"No, not to-night; he's scared stiff, I think; a good thing, too," grinned Tom. "See, it's almost daylight; he won't come back before night, I guess."
The boys climbed stiffly down from the loft. To their joy the snow crusts held up, and they soon struck the main trail, reaching camp in time for breakfast. When they returned home, a lumberman was sent with them, for the story of their brave fight with the huge panther had excited much interest in camp and they found themselves heroes.
All the remainder of that winter, the farmers were troubled for the safety of their stock, as soon as they heard there was a panther on the mountain. Strangely enough, it never appeared again in the valley, and some even doubted that the boys had actually seen a full-grown panther. The following spring hunters came across the dead panther in its lair, just above Vulture Cliff. Tom's last shot had put an end to it—the last panther ever seen on Cushman Range.
CHAPTER XVI
NEMOX, THE CRAFTY ROBBER OF THE MARSHES
Nemox, the fisher, who lived in the hollow of a great pine tree in the depths of the marsh country, lay stretched out flat upon a lofty limb of his home tree, intently watching a clumsy black figure which shuffled through the aisles of the pines far beneath him.