There, quite near,—over by a little nest of bowlders—something moved! Dim, dark, hardly discernible, a round, black head peered out, advancing fearsomely, with two phosphorescent disks of fire glaring at them, balefully!—Then a wild, mortal shriek rent the night! It was the Black Panther, himself!
The boys tugged feverishly at their revolvers, their hair standing on end with fright. As for the two Navahos, one wild leap, one terror-stricken grunt of dismay, and they were off like the wind, bolting out into the sage. It was not until they were some distance away that they raised terrified screams of fright, running like deer as they yelled.
The panther crept nearer, and, just as Sid was about to fire, Big John’s low voice called out to them reassuringly.
“Don’t shoot!—Up an’ git young Niltci, boys!” he gritted.—“How did my fox-fire look?”
Sid went nearly hysterical with the reaction. “Was that you, John? It was great! Simply great!” he chuckled, springing forward to wring the cowman’s hand. Bubbling with delight, they all dashed for Niltci. Swiftly his thongs were cut, and then, each grabbing an arm, they started for the canyon.
“Run, fellers—I’m a good kitty, all right, but we ain’t got no time to lose!” whispered Big John, hoarsely.—“Listen!”
Voices and yells came from hogans all about them. The night was hideous with uproar—then it suddenly ceased and all was silent again.
“Well, I’ll be derned!” grunted Big John, as they hustled along, “what d’ye make of that?—I’m wise, boys!” he laughed. “Them brave bucks has told the hogans that their friend, Mister Black Panther, has come and took Niltci—an’ they’re all stickin’ close to home, scairt to death! Hep, boys—hep!”
CHAPTER VIII
SILENT PINES AND YELLOW CRAGS
“SHORE I’m shy a good hat!” exclaimed Big John whimsically, as they slackened speed and began to look about through the gloom for some sign of the Colonel and the pack train. He took off his old Montana Stetson and twirled it ruefully in his hands. It was black as the night, where it had been gray, and out of two holes up near the crown he stuck two fingers and wiggled them at the boys. “I shore oughtta go on the stage after that panther stunt, boys,” he drawled, his face breaking into a slow grin. “When I left you, I worked around to whar the Injuns hed their big fire an’ got me some charcoal. Then I crep’ over to them rocks an’ lay thar, waitin’ till you come, and blackin’ up the ole cage all over good. Then I cuts two holes in her, an’ dolls her up with yore matches tied in two round bundles. Arter a while, when I thinks you-all shore must be hyarabouts, I spits on me hands and rubs them matches good. Shore ’twas funny!” he chuckled. “I looks me ole sombrero over an’ like to hev scairt myself to death with them two fox-fire eyes glarin’ at me out’n thet black hat! But ’twan’t a fleabite to the way them redskins lit out, an’ you two boys allowed to sell yore lives dear when I lets out that yelp intended to represent a panther’s call an’ oozes out into the scenery!”