The boys slid to the ground as fast as their stiffened limbs would permit, picked up Charley's rifle, and hastily cutting down the venison, plunged out of the forest onto the prairie.
The screams, rapidly drawing nearer, hastened their footsteps, but, fast as they traveled, the sound continued to draw closer.
"It has got a sniff of the venison and is following us up," Charley declared. "We can never get away from it, and there is small chance of our being able to kill it in the dark. We may as well stop right here where there is a little wood and build a fire, that is our only chance."
Charley had chosen this halting place wisely, for a large dead tree lay on the ground, where he had stopped.
Hastily the boys tore up a heap of dry grass and piling broken limbs on it, lit the pile with a match.
The dry stuff roared up with a flame not a minute too soon, the flickering light revealed a crouching form not thirty feet away. With a snarl of rage the creature retreated from the blaze and began circling the fire from a distance. The soft pattering footfalls could be easily heard.
The boys crouched close to the fire filled with apprehension that gradually decreased as they saw the panther feared to approach. Thrice Charley fired at the dim skulking form, but, in the darkness, his bullets went wide of the mark, and he stopped wasting more ammunition.
"Let's set fire to the tree itself," Walter suggested, "it will make a bigger fire, last a long time, and save us the trouble of gathering wood."
"Good," exclaimed Charley, and seizing a couple of blazing brands he thrust them under the tree's trunk. The dry wood caught like tinder and soon the whole tree was aflame.
"I hope they will see it at the camp," Walter said. "If they do, they will know we are still alive."