SURPRISING FRANK
There are times when one simply acts from impulse rather than from
design. And this was certainly one of those occasions.
Bob had been thrown aside by the stroke from the heavy paw of the
descending beast. He simply kept on rolling, and thus avoided being
pounced upon when the panther, like a domestic cat cheated out of its
prey by the first jump, turned to make a second attempt.
Better still, Bob had been wise enough not to loosen his grip on his
gun. Hence he was not unarmed when he threw himself behind a friendly
tree, and fumbled at the mechanism of the repeating rifle, meaning
to eject the useless empty brass shell, and bring another from the
magazine into the firing chamber.
It seems a very simple act when attempted under ordinary conditions.
But if a young hunter can manage to accomplish the same when an angry
panther is within five feet of him, and ready for a renewal of its
attack, he deserves much praise. Four out of five would make a mess
of trying to work the “pump-gun,” with results not at all pleasant.
But Bob went through with the two movements necessary to attain this
end without a hitch. This left his gun in condition for immediate
use, with the hammer pushed back, ready for a discharge.
Just then he saw that the big cat was about to launch itself through
the air again. It had crouched, with its head between its forepaws;
and there was a “hunching” movement to the whole body. Bob had seen
exactly the same when a pet Maltese cat was about to spring on an
unsuspecting sparrow.
He knew that a second would count for a great deal under such
circumstances. It would not do to even try and raise the gun to his
shoulder to aim; for the panther might be in the air before he could
glance along that shiny barrel.
Instinct again forced Bob to pull the trigger. How he did it he never
could explain; but he fired the shot from his hip, and with his eyes
glued upon the figure of his enemy.
Bob had all the instincts of a true hunter. When he heard a story
told that had to do with an encounter with dangerous game he never
failed to ask a multitude of questions. And in this way he had
gained a pretty good idea of how successful big game hunters carry
themselves under perilous conditions.
Hence he had no sooner fired than he hastened to fling himself behind
another tree that happened to be within reach.
Something came slap against it. He heard a low growl, that seemed to
change into short angry whines; and glancing around the tree, after
he had made his gun serviceable again, he discovered the animal
kicking its last, biting at every object within reach of its teeth,
and evidently dying hard.
There was no longer any danger to be apprehended from this source;
and it was only his desire not to allow needless pain that urged Bob
to once more throw his rifle forward, and pull the trigger.
Then the panther lay very still, and the lad knew that the last spark
of life had departed.
Bob stood there, looking around him. He was trembling violently, yet
it was the result of excitement and action, rather than anything like
fear.
In fact, one thing had followed so fast upon the heels of others,
that thus far he had not found time to be afraid.
“Probably I would have been, if the beast had given me a chance,” he
said afterward, when telling Frank about the happening.
He had done an amazing thing—killed a deer and a panther, both
within the space of three minutes or less.
Of course Frank must have heard the several shots, and might be
growing anxious about him. So Bob decided to return to camp. On the
horses they could cover the intervening ground in a short time; and
after that take as much of the venison along as Frank thought best.
After noting the spot so that he could easily locate it again, Bob
hurried away. He found his chum looking anxiously for him; and noted
the smile of relief that came upon Frank’s face as he broke cover
close by.
“He got away after all that hammering, eh?” remarked the prairie lad;
but in a good natured manner.
“After we start, suppose we run over that way a little,” said Bob.
“It won’t take a long time; and there’s something I’d like to show
you.”
“Sure,” replied Frank, as he prepared to mount. “No use asking what
it is; for once you’ve made up your mind to keep a surprise, a
mountain wouldn’t move _you_, Bob.”
First of all, Bob led him by a round-about way to where the deer lay,
just as it had fallen, although Bob had stopped long enough to bleed
his quarry.
“How’s that?” he asked a little proudly.
Frank jumped down, and bent over the animal. And, just as his
comrade anticipated, he almost immediately exclaimed.
“Your bullet took him directly back of the foreshoulder, Bob; and
must have cut into his heart. Then what in the wide world did you
want to fire twice again for?”
“Oh! I had a little dispute with a rival hunter, and he thought I’d
played him a mean trick to step in when he was creeping up on the
game. So we had it out; and if you come this way, Frank, I’ll show
you how it all ended.”
When the wondering Frank looked down on the sleek form of the
mountain cat, he emitted a whistle that meant astonishment.
“Great governor! however did you do it; and come out of the scrape
without even a single scratch, too?” he asked, turning on Bob.
“Well, hardly that,” replied the other, wincing when Frank
unconsciously laid a hand on his left shoulder. “If you look where
you touched me you’ll see that my jacket and flannel shirt are clawed
some. I reckon there’s need of that wonderful permanganate of potash
wash that you think so much of.”
“And you’ll have to let me look at that shoulder right away, son,”
declared Frank. “I never take any chances when clawed by an animal
that lives on flesh. If blood poisoning ever sets in, it’s bound to
be a bad job. And while I’m working you just pitch in, and tell me
all about it; d’ye hear?”
Of course Bob complied. He was just aching to tell the story anyhow,
boy-like. And Frank could easily picture the exciting scene, as he
looked around him, and noted where the beast had first clawed up
the ground when he just missed the form of the human hunter who had
invaded his private preserves.
“Whew! things seem to be coming your way right along, Bob,” he
remarked after both the story, and his dressing of the trifling
wounds, were finished.
“They say it’s better to be born lucky than rich,” his chum laughed.
“And if I can keep on in this way I’ve no kick coming. But how about
the deer meat, Frank? We ought to take some of that along with us,
hadn’t we?”
“I should say yes,” declared Frank, as he pulled out his hunting
knife, and once more moved toward the spot where the deer lay.
“But I’d like ever so much to have this nice pelt to remember the
affair by,” Bob remarked, casting a regretful eye back toward the
dead panther.
“Well, I’ll take it off, if you will carve some meat from your deer,”
Frank answered, knowing just how the tenderfoot felt about the
matter. “Of course, we couldn’t think of taking it along with us
now; but I’ll hang it up in a tree, and on our way home we’ll try and
remember it. How’s that, Bob?”
“Fine and dandy,” replied the other. “I won’t promise to cut the
steaks as well as you could; but I’ll do my best; and they can be
eaten anyhow. So here goes!”
He had, before now, taken some lessons in cutting up game, and was
not altogether ignorant of the method. And by the time the practical
Frank had hung the skin of the panther high up on a branch, Bob was
on hand with a bundle of fresh meat, wrapped in a part of the deer’s
hide.
“Say, if we keep on like this I reckon our new trip will see all the
others, and go them one better,” declared Bob, after he had fastened
the package to his horse.
They rode off, and Frank, having found the pass leading over the
mountain ridge, the laborious task of climbing the height was
commenced.
But both horses proved game. At half-past three Frank announced that
they had ascended as high as the canyon ran. From that point the
pass would decline, making it much easier for the animals. Here Bob
saw his first flock of great vultures, perched upon some of the high
rocks the balloonist had spoken of.
During the balance of the afternoon they rode steadily downward; and
as the evening drew near Frank declared that they were going to make
their point, which was to leave the mountain range behind them.
“To-morrow we cross another mesa,” he said, “and then come to the
mountains where the Cherry Blossom blooms.”
“Then we stand a chance of getting there by to-morrow night?” asked
Bob.
“Unless something stops us that I don’t see just now,” replied the
prairie boy, as he looked around as usual for a good camp-site.
Before the sun’s glow had begun to fade from the glorious western
heavens the two saddle boys had turned their horses loose, and were
hard at work with their preparations for spending another night under
the moon and stars.