"The brutes often hunt in couples, you know. This was the mother, just as I had an ijee, and she's got half-grown cubs around somewhere. If the mate's near by he may give us a call sooner or later."
Bluff's hand had stolen out toward his gun at these words.
"Here! No more of that, my lad!" said Mr. Mabie. "You've had your fling, and come out of it mighty lucky. Don't try it again while I'm around, please. If any more uninvited visitors drop in, you leave them to the rest of us."
But there was no further alarm. During the night some of them declared they heard strange cries off in the woods, which Mr. Mabie said must have been the whining of the panther cubs, looking in vain for their mother.
Frank was distressed.
"
I hope they're really big enough to forage for themselves. If there's anything I dislike it's to shoot bird or beast that has young depending upon it. Perhaps the old male may look after them," he suggested.
"Well," smiled Mr. Mabie, "I hardly think that will prove to be the case; at least they don't, as a rule. But I've got an idea the cubs are of a good size, and can find some means of subsisting. For my part, I wouldn't care if every panther in the Northwest were rubbed out. I've no love for the sly beasts. They've robbed me of more than one fine calf, I can tell you."
After breakfast a hunt was organized.
"We ought to get an elk before leaving up here," said the stockman as they prepared to go forth again in a squad; "and as this will be our last day in camp by the falls, we must look sharp."