“Yes, the panther is a sly beast, but when pressed for a meal he will take chances every time,” returned Roger. “You remember that one we met in the timber on a winter’s day, just as the snow-storm commenced to gather. I saw him leave the limb just in the nick of time. I think he gave a little snarl as he sprang; and if it hadn’t been for that he might have borne me to the ground. As it was I managed to duck like a flash, so that he leaped right over me; and before he could swing around after recovering, your rifle had spoken, and it was all up with Mr. Panther.”
“Yes, and cases are known when men have been attacked openly on the trail by these gray woods terrors,” Dick went on, as though the subject possessed a certain fascination for him.
“The trouble is,” Roger continued, “you never know just how to take one of them. Sometimes a panther may seem to be the biggest coward going; and another day the same beast wouldn’t hesitate at attacking three men. Some hunters say they get crazy fits, and, when one of these comes on, the person who runs across a panther had better look out. But if I see a ‘painter,’ as old Pat O’Mara used to call them, I’m ready to give him the compliments of my gun, and without any palaver, too.”
After that they lapsed into silence, each doubtless occupied with his thoughts. Indeed, they had much pressing on their young minds about this time, when the fate of their mission was still in serious doubt. If it should fail, and all their long trip have been taken for nothing, they did not really know how they should have the courage to turn back, and retrace all these weary hundreds of miles down the river.
And whenever Roger became silent it could be taken for granted that he was allowing his thoughts to roam in a certain direction; in imagination picturing the happy day when he and his cousin would reach the home settlement, bringing with them, duly signed and witnessed, the precious document that was to bring such happiness to their loved ones.
The horses plodded on, with Dick keeping a guiding hand on his bridle, and occasionally glancing to the right, and to the left. Then he would look upward, so as to get his bearings from the position of the westering sun, which was of course on their left now, and could only be seen now and then, when there came a rift in the timber.
They would soon be compelled to pick out a camp site, for the day had almost reached its close. Roger was sighing because they had failed to reach the river, as he had fondly hoped would be the case at the time they started out that morning. And he was mentally chiding himself for the twentieth time that day, on account of having insisted on the experiment of saving time by taking a “cut-off.” No matter what the temptation might be, he was determined never again to try and influence Dick when the other thought differently from him. Dick was a born guide. He always figured things out accurately, and was seldom if ever known to go amiss when leading the expedition out of trouble; whereas he, Roger, was a bungler and only fit to tag behind, ready to assist.
Neither of the boys had spoken a word for nearly ten minutes. Roger was waiting to hear his comrade say that they had better pull up, and stop for the night. Much as he wished to halt, and prepare supper, for he was really hungry, he would not mention the fact to Dick, being too proud to exhibit any weakness. And the memory of how he had brought about all this trouble hung like a heavy burden upon Roger’s mind just then.
Around them the silence of the forest was broken only by the chattering of little ground squirrels, known to-day as chipmunks; or it might be the scolding of the hasty tempered blue jay in the branches of a cottonwood tree.
When, therefore, a sound of an entirely different nature struck upon the ears of the boys, they were greatly startled. It was almost a shriek, and both were of the impression that it was a woman’s voice.