"He will tear it all to pieces!"
"No he won't, Steve. We can get a bead on him from behind that rock yonder. He'll be too busy to be looking out for us for a minute or so."
That was true, and it was a bad thing for the great "cat of the mountains" that it was so, for the two hunters got within a hundred yards of him before he had done smelling of the big-horn, in which he had buried his sharp, terrible claws.
"Now, Steve, I won't miss my shot this time. See that you don't."
Steve took even too much care with his aim, and Murray fired first.
He did not miss; but a cougar is not like a deer, and it takes a good deal more to kill him.
Murray's bullet struck a vital part, and the fierce beast sprang from the bowlder with a ferocious growl of sudden pain and anger.
"I hit him. Quick, Steve!"
The panther was crouching on the gravel at the bottom of the ravine, and searching with furious eyes for the enemies who had wounded him.
The report of Steve's rifle rang through the chasm.