Their horses began to prance, as though the unusual noise had given them a start, or else from some other unseen cause.
These boys of the border had always been brought up to be courteous to the other sex. They would go far out of their way to render aid to a woman or child in distress. And therefore, when they heard what seemed to them to be a cry of terror, and apparently in a woman’s voice, the first thought of both was to dig their heels into the sides of their horses, and urge the beasts forward in the direction whence the sound seemed to come.
It struck them as strange how unwilling the animals seemed to be to advance; and this fact caused Dick to entertain suspicions. Either Indians were about, and the intelligent beasts knew it, or else some sort of terrible wild animal lurked among the thickets close by, and had been scented by the horses.
But, under the urging of their masters, even the horses had to give way, though it was evident that they made the advance with reluctance.
And in this fashion, then, did they break through the screen of bushes, so that they stood upon the border of what seemed a forest glade.
What they discovered there was a picture neither of the lads would ever forget.
An old Indian squaw was brandishing a heavy billet of wood, which she had evidently hastily snatched up. Cowering under her protecting arm was a little girl of perhaps seven years of age—a pretty child, though undoubtedly also an Indian.
And crouching on the limb of a nearby tree, lashing its tail to and fro, as it worked itself up into a rage in order to launch forth upon its intended victims, was the largest gray panther either of the boys had ever seen.
It had come upon the squaw and her helpless charge suddenly, and, with the craftiness of its kind, was holding back its final spring, just as a domestic cat will allow a mouse to crawl away before pouncing on it.
At any second now the terrible beast might launch itself out, and crush the brave old squaw under its weight.