But that was only one man. The beast wouldn't dare jump in a camp like this, no matter how hungry he might be?" continued Bluff, who seemed strangely interested in the subject, Frank thought.
The old cowpuncher laughed as though amused.
"That's somethin' I'd hate to commit myself on, younker. All I say is a painter ain't to be depended on. He might prove a coward, like some cats, and again you'd be fair astonished at his darin'. Long ago I made up my mind never to give him more of a chance than I could help. It's war to the knife between me and any such prowlin' critter. I can't git my gun workin' too quick to please me when I sees the yaller eyes of a painter hoverin' round my camp."
"Are their eyes always yellow?" asked Bluff eagerly.
"I reckons they are, kid; leastways all that I ever see was marked that way," replied the cowboy, reaching out for a brand with which to light the cigarette he had been rolling between his fingers, just as Reddy was also doing at the time.
"Like those yonder, do you mean?" said Bluff, pointing behind Billy, to a point where the dense thicket came close to the border of the camp.
Every eye was instantly turned in that direc
tion. Frank himself was thrilled when he discovered that there were twin glowing eyes among those bushes, eyes that had all the attributes of the cat tribe.
Various exclamations arose from the group.
"By gum! It's a painter, sure as you live!" said Billy calmly.