Chauncy had intended to secure an old hunter for a guide, who was an old friend of his father’s. Many years before, the two had fought in the Mexican war, side by side, and the hunter’s life had been saved by his comrade in arms, which made them good friends. After the war Chauncy’s father returned to his home in the North, and several times received scrawling letters from the old hunter, but the two had never seen each other since their parting.
Disappointed in meeting the old Texan, Chauncy had started out alone, determined that he would not wait in the little border town for the old ranger’s return.
He had a mission to accomplish if possible, for he had not come out for the hunting alone. An uncle had died and left two-thirds of his estate, which was large, to an adopted son and the other third to Chauncy. This adopted son having had a quarrel with the uncle had gone “out West.” No one had heard of him for years, and it was not an unlikely thing for him to be dead.
Mr. Branrare was to institute a search for him, and if he was not found at the end of a year, then the former was to assume possession of the fortune bequeathed to the missing man.
The horse of the young man was approaching one of the numerous “mottes” of trees which spot the prairies of Texas. Suddenly he started and looked around.
It was a sound which, in any place, would have awakened all that was chivalrous in his nature. It was a cry for help, and it was a woman’s voice!
It came from the trees, not once but twice—thrice, and without hesitation the young hunter dashed his spurs into the sides of his horse, when, like a flash, the noble animal darted forward and in a moment reached the trees.
Throwing himself from his horse, Chauncy rushed in among the undergrowth rifle in hand. He reached the edge of a small glade with a few bounds, and a thrilling sight was before him.
On the limb of a tree opposite to him was a large panther flattened out for a leap. Not five yards from the tree was a young girl, her face blanched with terror!