"Stir up the fire, Jerry, and fetch a torch here!" he called, holding himself in readiness for another shot, if such should be needed.
"You just bet I will!" cried the other, bounding forward.
Frank saw him give the smoldering fire a kick that started it into new life. Then, bending over, he snatched a brand and came running back.
"Where are you, Frank? What under the sun happened? Not hurt, are you?" was what he was singing out, his voice trembling with eagerness and anxiety.
"Everything all right, Jerry. Come this way. Now poke the blaze over yonder."
Jerry gave a shout.
"Something's moving! It's kicking its last, by the great horn spoon! Frank's got his bear—no, I'll be hanged if it is! A panther, Joe, a panther!"
He stood there like a statue, holding the torch and staring at the sleek gray form stretched out under the tree, and which was, in fact, giving the very last kick, as he had declared.
Frank laughed, a little hysterically, it may be assumed, for the strain on his nerves had been tremendous.
"Unexpected visitor, eh, Jerry? Didn't send out an invitation to this slippery gentleman, did we? But he insisted on joining the family circle, and I just had to ask him in," he said, trying to steady his voice, while, unseen by Jerry, his hands were shaking as he clutched his gun.