THE COWBOY GUIDE
Everybody was in motion at once.
Some went over backward, regardless of appearances; others rolled aside,
bent upon placing some little distance between themselves and the
invader. Bluff was trying to work the mechanism of his gun in order to
secure a second shot, but as so often happens when the hunter is
excited, he failed to accomplish what should have been an easy change.
The maddened panther had crouched again after landing close to the fire.
Perhaps what acted more than anything else to keep the beast from
leaping once more was the uncertainty of choosing among so many which he
should attack. If he only knew from whence had come that sting which had
given him such sudden agony there would have been no hesitation at all.
One, however, did not join in the almost universal retreat. This man was
Reddy. He had been leaning forward at the time, as stated, about to
pick up a brand with which to light his cigarette. Some impulse urged
him to seize a flaming, heavy stick that stuck out of the fire, and make
a frantic attack upon the crouching panther.
Frank never forgot that spectacle. The panther, with ears flattened
back, and fangs exposed, snarled and carried on just like a big house
cat when assailed by a small but saucy dog, striking out from time to
time, as though trying to reach the arm that wielded the cudgel.
The flaming brand caused too much fear to allow of an attack. Still, the
ugly beast would not give way, and leap out of its perilous position.
"Where's my gun?" At least three different shouts arose.
"Get out of range there, kid!" bellowed Billy, who had drawn a heavy
revolver, and, on hands and knees, sought to get a line on the common
enemy.
"But that's my panther!" cried the voice of Bluff.
Frank saw him once more bring his rifle up to his shoulder. Although
hardly in a position to see what was going on, Will seemed to be
fumbling with something in a desperate fashion. The fellow, as usual,
was thinking only of what a grand thing it would be if he could only
get that scene for posterity to gaze upon.
"I hope Bluff aims straight!" Frank was saying to himself, for he knew
there was more or less danger of the bullet doing some damage to one of
the campers who might happen to be on the other side, partly screened by
the brush.
The crash of the gun followed.
"Wow!" shouted Reddy, falling back as the panther tumbled over in his
direction, for he knew what damage those poisonous claws might do in the
dying agony of the beast.
Then the rest of the scattered company appeared. Some crawled out from
the brush, others arose from flattening themselves on the ground, while
still another group made their exit from under the canvas of the tent
close by.
The beast was writhing in its last hold on life.
"That's my panther, I told you!" said Bluff, jumping to his feet, and
still holding on to his gun.
He was as white as a ghost, but a fire shone in his eyes telling of the
spirit that had finally been aroused there. Jerry would soon have to
look to his laurels now.
Mr. Mabie laughed as he patted Bluff on the back.
"I reckon it is, youngster; but you took big chances that time. I'd
advise you to slow up a bit in the future, when shooting in the dark.
That impetuous nature will sure get you into more than one scrape,
otherwise," he said soberly.
Bluff hung his head. He knew now that he had been too hasty, when there
were so many older campaigners than himself around; but the loss of that
elk had rankled in his heart, so that he could not resist the sudden
temptation to redeem his reputation.
Jerry, for once, had nothing to say, at least to the successful one. He
bent over the dead panther, and examined it with curiosity. Will was
loudly lamenting the fact that once again he had found himself left in
the lurch.
"You fellows move too fast," he declared. "Now, if Bluff hadn't put in
his oar, I was just about ready to shoot off a flashlight picture. Just
think what it would mean to see Reddy, here, banging that big cat over
the head with his torch! Oh! it's just too mean for any use! Everything
goes wrong just when I'm going to squeeze my bulb, and get the best
picture there ever was! Even a rotten old log has to go and break off
short--"
"Hey, Will! Let up on that whining, won't you?" cried Jerry, just then,
fearful lest his secret was about to come out.
Frank looked suspiciously at both his chums. Perhaps he may have
entertained a dim thought that there was something between them that
they did not want known; but other things soon put this out of his mind
for the time being.
"We must keep an eye out the rest of the time we're here," said Billy,
after the company had settled down again around the fire.
"Why?" asked Bluff, looking up from admiring the sleek fur of his prize.
"The brutes often hunt in couples, you know. This was the mother, just
as I had an ijee, and she's got half-grown cubs around somewhere. If the
mate's near by he may give us a call sooner or later."
Bluff's hand had stolen out toward his gun at these words.
"Here! No more of that, my lad!" said Mr. Mabie. "You've had your fling,
and come out of it mighty lucky. Don't try it again while I'm around,
please. If any more uninvited visitors drop in, you leave them to the
rest of us."
But there was no further alarm. During the night some of them declared
they heard strange cries off in the woods, which Mr. Mabie said must
have been the whining of the panther cubs, looking in vain for their
mother.
Frank was distressed.
"I hope they're really big enough to forage for themselves. If there's
anything I dislike it's to shoot bird or beast that has young depending
upon it. Perhaps the old male may look after them," he suggested.
"Well," smiled Mr. Mabie, "I hardly think that will prove to be the
case; at least they don't, as a rule. But I've got an idea the cubs are
of a good size, and can find some means of subsisting. For my part, I
wouldn't care if every panther in the Northwest were rubbed out. I've no
love for the sly beasts. They've robbed me of more than one fine calf, I
can tell you."
After breakfast a hunt was organized.
"We ought to get an elk before leaving up here," said the stockman as
they prepared to go forth again in a squad; "and as this will be our
last day in camp by the falls, we must look sharp."
"Then we make tracks to-morrow?" asked Frank.
"Hardly that, since we go by water. You've seen the three bullboats
yonder. We send our tents and all other things around with the horses,
while we shoot the rapids, and enjoy the most exhilarating boat ride you
ever dreamed of. Just wait and see, boys. It will be something worth
while."
After all, the stockman was unable to start out with them. He was
subject to attacks of rheumatism, due to his age, and many exposures in
the past. When one of these came on Mr. Mabie was unable to walk any
distance, and, unfortunately, he experienced such an attack that
morning.
"Sorry, boys, but it can't be helped. Reddy, here, will have to take my
place. You don't need me, that's plain. Only don't be too reckless, now.
That's the fault with most youngsters," and he shook his head at Bluff,
who turned fiery red as his eyes fell upon the panther, which Billy was
skinning at that moment.
Of course, Reddy was to act as guide to the party. He had been around
the vicinity a number of times. Besides, he knew the habits of the elk,
which used this valley for their feeding grounds, and if any one could
lead them to success in their hunt it was the young cowboy.
Frank used to look at Reddy, and wonder if he had ever seen him before;
but as that was out of the question, he came to the belief that it was
simply a matter of resemblance.
"Look there!" exclaimed the guide, before they had gone two hundred
steps from the camp, and pointing as he spoke.
"What was it?" asked Jerry eagerly.
"I saw a gray critter slinking away into that thicket!"
"The panther's mate!" cried Bluff excitedly, as he fingered his gun.
"I reckon it was; but we ain't lost no panther, and anyhow, this is a
hunt for elk meat. Come along, boys," remarked Reddy hastily.
They tramped for half an hour steadily, going far beyond where Bluff had
had his strange adventure with the wounded elk. Will trailed along in
the rear, holding on to his beloved camera. The woods looked as though
the recent dry weather had seared the leaves more or less, but they
lacked the splendid gorgeous tints of autumn.
More than once the others had to wait for the straggler, or else call to
him. He grew so interested in his surroundings, especially when trying
to get a view that particularly appealed to his fancy, that he was apt
to forget their mission entirely.
Once he aroused himself to the fact that he could no longer see his
comrades, or catch a sound of their voices. This disagreeable idea
caused him to hurry, and no doubt he became less cautious in navigating
some of the various narrow paths, for before he realized that he had
started a small avalanche, he was caught up in its gathering swoop, and
found himself being carried swiftly down a rather steep declivity,
unable to stay his rush.