THE LAST PANTHER ON CUSHMAN RANGE
Tom and Ned Manning lived upon a farm in Northern Vermont. The
Manning home was in a beautiful valley, and all about, as far as the
eye could see, ranged the Green Mountains; the range which towered
over this valley was called Cushman.
The boys were quite elated one day when their father told them he
would have to send them over the mountain to a far-off lumber camp,
upon a very important errand. This meant a two days' holiday for
them, no school, and plenty of adventure in the woods.
"We'll start early," called Tom to his brother, already splitting his
next morning's wood. "And if we have good luck, we can reach camp
early in the afternoon. Snow-shoeing will be dandy, and say, we can
just about ski down on the crusts, going down."
"That's so; it's going to be a bully trip," replied Ned, "and
mother's sure to put us up a big feed. Say, somehow mother doesn't
like the idea of us two going alone over the mountain. Guess it's
because the Eatons have been losing their sheep; and now the Strongs
have lost a young calf, some think there's something big and wild
around loose on the mountain somewhere--a panther, or something like
that."
"Joe Strong said their calf _never strayed_ away," replied Tom, "but
father thinks it did. He thinks dogs got the sheep anyway, and he
says nowadays there isn't anything big enough on the mountains to
carry off such a big creature as a calf--hasn't been, for years.
Anyhow, I'm not a coward. Say, let's ask for grandfather's gun to
take with us," suggested Ned.
The boys went to bed early that night, so as to get started by
sunrise. The morning was keen, cold and sparkly, and the sun shone
out upon the snow crusts as it came peeping over the pointed spruces
on the summit of the mountain, and made them sparkle as if sprinkled
with trillions of diamonds. They stowed away the ample lunch which
their mother had put up, and Tom shouldered the old gun, while Ned
carried the gum pole. They had decided to halt at a certain grove of
giant spruces, half-way up Cushman, which they meant to visit for
gum. The pole was long enough to reach into a tall tree, at the end
was a sharp knife, and just beneath this a small cup, so that when
the gum was chipped off, instead of falling down and being lost
beneath among the pine needles, it dropped right into the cup.
Soon the boys left the steep hilly pastures, the foot-hills of the
mountains, behind them, and began climbing the side of old Cushman.
"Look ahead, Ned; we're right in range of some dandy old spruces,"
called back Tom, who forged on ahead with the gun. "See, just beyond
that ledge up there, we'll halt and get our gum, then we can soon
climb up top and have our lunch. It won't take us long to go down.
Come on; we must have that gum; it'll be good picking."
"Say, guess that ledge ahead must be Vulture Cliff; looks as if we're
kind of off the main trail. We never strike off quite so far east as
this, do we?" asked Ned, halting to look up at the great black,
snow-capped crag which towered above them, jutting far out over the
valley. They halted just below, and visited some giant spruces
which, to their joy, yielded such a fine harvest of gum that they
hated to leave the grove.
"We got to be making tracks now, I guess, Ned. Come on."
Just then Ned chipped off a splendid lump of amber gum from his tree,
and still higher up he saw several large nuggets clinging temptingly
to the brown spruce trunk. As prime gum would readily fetch a dollar
a pound, these Vermont boys, to whom pocket money was rare, were
reluctant to leave it behind.
Tom insisted upon their going on. "We've got to go on right off,
Ned. But say, we'll come up on purpose some time when we don't have
to go over the mountain."
Soon they were directly beneath the grim shadow of Vulture Cliff; it
would be a stiff climb to go around it, and this they found they must
do to reach the summit of the mountain. They had halted a second to
get breath, when Tom spied a queer-looking object lying just beneath
the crag upon the snow, and went to investigate.
"What is it?" called down Ned curiously.
"Come on down and see!" shouted back Tom, and soon the two boys were
staring at their find--a great bone, the knuckle joint of a cow,
having the hoof still attached. The bone had been gnawed, but was
still fresh.
"Great Scott! What do you think of that?" exclaimed Tom excitedly.
"It's surely some young creature's hoof, and whatever was gnawing it
surely dropped it down from the ledge above, I believe." The boys
had sudden misgivings. What could it have been?
"Say, Tom, it must have been something big and fierce and hungry to
carry off a big bone like that. Perhaps the bone belonged to that
heifer that was lost," suggested Ned.
"Might have," commented Tom, taking in the situation, which suggested
to him the idea of getting away from the lonely spot as soon as
possible. Besides, it was evident that much time had already been
taken up with their gumming, more than they had meant to take, and
now, to their dismay, they discovered suddenly that the sun had
disappeared; great clouds were swiftly gathering about them, while
down below in the valley, already the snow whirled thickly. A swift
storm had arisen, as is often the case in these mountains. It had
been brooding, but the boys had not noticed it. Already the giant
spruces rocked and tossed far above, as the biting wind whined
through their tops. The boys realised their best plan now was to
make for the nearest shelter, or they were liable to be overtaken by
a blizzard on the mountains, and so lose their way. Swifter and
faster swirled the snow; it shut them off completely from everything,
blinding them and stinging their faces like fine needles. Nothing
but vapour and clouds all about, and they were off the main trail.
They forged on ahead, climbing bravely up and up, sliding back at
each step, but clinging to small spruces to keep from slipping.
[Illustration: THE PANTHER CROUCHED AT THE FOOT OF THE LADDER, ...
MAKING UP ITS MIND TO CLIMB.]
"Do you know where we are, Tom?" called Ned, trying to keep up with
his elder brother, slipping over rocks, plunging down into deep
gullies and over great fallen spruces.
"Not sure," called back Tom, above the howling gale. "We can't begin
to get down the mountain, though, to-night. Look ahead; it's almost
dark now. I hope we can strike the old mountain house, that is, if
it isn't blown down. We'll try; come on." This old mountain house
had originally been built for a cattle shelter, to protect the stock
which ranged across the clearings in autumn. A desolate, barn-like
structure upon the summit of Cushman which the fierce storms had done
their best to demolish.
"I see it," called back Tom. "Look! It's right ahead--a big black
thing; it's the mountain house all right. Brace up; we've got to get
inside. We're in luck to strike even this crazy old place." The old
house, black and forlorn, stood there, its windows gone; through its
empty casements the wind howled and whined. The flooring of loose
planks flapped and tipped as the boys stepped inside. There was a
rude loft, some timbers thrown across beams, where hay had been
stored; against one side stood a rickety ladder.
"Wish we could start a fire; I'm nearly frozen," spoke Ned.
"No matches, anyhow and no fireplace in this old shebang," replied
Tom regretfully. "Tell you what: perhaps we can find some hay left
up in the loft and make a bunk; it would keep us warmer than staying
down here."
They climbed up the ladder, and creeping cautiously over the wabbling
beams upon their hands and knees, they collected enough coarse hay to
make a small bunk, selecting the most sheltered corner where the
boards were closest. Here, snuggling in the hay, they ate their last
doughnut. The place was dark and still inside; as the storm raged,
and rattled the old building, it seemed as if it would be whirled off
the top of the mountain at the very next blast.
"Guess we shan't sleep much up here," commented Ned dejectedly.
"Gee, I'm hungry; wish we hadn't been such pigs and eaten up our
lunch so soon."
"Well, we might as well turn in and try to get a few naps; though if
the storm keeps up I don't know how we'll get through in the
morning," replied Tom. They snuggled down in the hay in their bunk
upon the precarious scaffolding, being careful not to move about lest
they might fall below, and at last went to sleep. While they
slumbered the fierceness of the storm abated, the moon came out and
little twinkly, cold stars shone in through the roof above them.
Suddenly, a swift tap, tapping sound beneath on the old flooring
awoke the boys. What could it be? Then, by the moonlight which
shone through the windows, they suddenly spied a young buck deer
which had leaped into the room below and stood panting, head raised,
listening, watching.
"Look, Ned! It's a deer," hissed Tom, spying it first. "It's been
running; hear it pant. It's _afraid_. See it stand watching for
something. Look! look! it's going to jump out that back window.
Something's chasing it. Oh, look, look!" As they peered down a
great cat-like figure appeared in the opening of the window,
crouching there and glaring inside. It was a huge tawny panther.
Its wicked-looking head was thrust forward, and its eyes shone like
living coals. The deer, off and away by this time, had escaped.
Then, to the great dismay of the boys, the panther sprang lightly
into the room beneath them, and they clung to each other in terror,
for the next instant the beast had lifted its great flat head, giving
a baffled yell of rage which shook the old rafters. To their horror,
instead of chasing the deer, it began to lope about the old building,
snuffling from side to side, finally halting at the foot of the
ladder, and gazing up curiously at the two trembling boys, sighting
them as they crouched together on the rickety scaffolding.
"It's a panther, ain't it?" whispered Ned shakily. "And can't they
climb?"
"Yep," replied Tom briefly, fussing over the old gun. "Say, crawl
over to the ladder, Ned, and knock it down somehow, can't you, while
I load the gun. Quick! Don't be scared. I'll fire before you get
there."
"S'pose it climbs up _before_ I get there?" hissed Ned shakily, not
liking the job very well.
"It won't--not if you hurry. Go now, now, Ned, quick!" ordered Tom.
Meantime, the panther still crouched at the foot of the ladder,
staring up at the boys with its wicked yellow eyes, evidently making
up its mind to climb into the loft. Cautiously Ned began to creep
over the beams to the ladder. Oh, if he could only reach it in time!
Would Tom never get the gun loaded and fire? What if a beam should
slip, and let him down below? Ned lay out flat upon the shaking
beam; he succeeded in reaching the top of the ladder, then, putting
all his strength into his arms, he gave it a swift shove, and it fell
below with a crash. Just then the old gun rang out; the kick which
it gave sent Tom sprawling backward into the hay. As Tom hoped, he
had shot the beast; the panther gave another yell. Before the smoke
cleared Tom missed Ned; at the same time he heard a faint call. But
from where? Where had Ned vanished? Could it be that he had fallen
down through the shaking beams to the floor below _with_ the panther?
"Quick, Tom, help, help!" called Ned. "I can't hold on any longer;
my wrist's hurt." Then Tom saw what had really happened. Ned had
slipped through the timbers and hung down below the loft, clinging to
a beam with his hands. If he let go, he would fall to the floor
below. So, leaping like a cat over the shaking beams, Tom had soon
pulled Ned up on to the platform.
"Gee, that was a close shave, all right," grunted Tom, quickly
reloading the gun, while Ned bade him hurry, for he just knew the
panther would jump into the loft. "He don't have to wait for any
ladder to climb up here."
Right across a wide streak of moonlight crept the panther, and then
Tom, aiming for its gleaming eyes, fired the old gun again.
"Don't miss him this time, Tom," warned Ned tensely, "or he'll get
us."
"Bang!" The trusty gun rang out once more, and the boys distinctly
heard the sounds of a wild scuffling down upon the old, loose
flooring below.
"Guess I fixed him _then_," said Tom triumphantly. The panther gave
a baffled howl of pain and rage, and deciding that the place was no
spot to tarry in, it leaped out and disappeared.
"You hit him! I know you did," declared Ned admiringly.
"Had to; it was my last shot," replied Tom, wiping his damp forehead
with his jacket sleeve. "And say, Ned, I call it a narrow escape."
"Think he'll come back?" asked Ned rather huskily, nursing his wrist.
"No, not to-night; he's scared stiff, I think; a good thing, too,"
grinned Tom. "See, it's almost daylight; he won't come back before
night, I guess."
The boys climbed stiffly down from the loft. To their joy the snow
crusts held up, and they soon struck the main trail, reaching camp in
time for breakfast. When they returned home, a lumberman was sent
with them, for the story of their brave fight with the huge panther
had excited much interest in camp and they found themselves heroes.
All the remainder of that winter, the farmers were troubled for the
safety of their stock, as soon as they heard there was a panther on
the mountain. Strangely enough, it never appeared again in the
valley, and some even doubted that the boys had actually seen a
full-grown panther. The following spring hunters came across the
dead panther in its lair, just above Vulture Cliff. Tom's last shot
had put an end to it--the last panther ever seen on Cushman Range.