“He’s coming!” said Joe, and making his hands into a trumpet, he answered the call.
They had the body out of the yard, and were crossing an open park with it, tugging hard, when the Ranger’s halloo sounded much nearer, and shortly after he appeared in the moonlight, coming fast.
“You got him, eh?” he said. “That’s good work. I heard your two shots, and then one more. That was to finish him at close range, I bet.”
“You win,” said the boys. “Gee, but he’s heavy to drag.”
“That’s a bum sled,” the Ranger laughed. “Either of you got your axe on?”
“No, we haven’t,” the boys said.
“I’ll find a fallen pole, then. Drag him along to the next stand.”
The Ranger went ahead, and found a small fallen tree from which he broke the dead branches and made a pole. Slipping this between the lion’s paws (which were knotted together with handkerchiefs) he picked up one end and Tom the other, the lion hanging down between them. Joe took the rifles, and they started home.
The moon was setting behind the Divide and the world growing dark under the frosty stars as they neared the cabin. Once inside, the boys got a rule, and ran back to measure their prey. He was exactly eight feet long, with three feet more of tail, and by lantern light they could see his yellowish-brown color, his gray face and dirty white belly. He looked like some gigantic, elongated house cat.
“Is that what used to be all over the country, and was called a panther?” Joe asked.