AN EXCITING TIME
Russ and Rose Bunker had slipped out of the house on the hill without
saying a word to anybody as to where they were going. Since coming to
the Meiggs Plantation there had been a certain amount of laxness in
regard to what the children did. They had a freedom that Mother Bunker
never allowed when they were at home.
Because the Armatage children went and came as they wished, the little
Bunkers began to do likewise. The house was so big, too, that the
children might be playing a long way from the room in which their mother
and father and Mr. Frane Armatage and his wife sat.
The servants who were supposed to keep some watch upon the children were
now all in the quarters. Servants in the South seldom sleep in "the big
house." And perhaps Mother Bunker forgot this fact.
At any rate, when she came to look for her brood late in the evening she
found the four little ones fast asleep in their beds, as she had
expected them to be. But Rose was not with Phillis and Alice Armatage,
and Russ's bed was likewise empty.
"Where are those children?" Mother Bunker demanded of Daddy, when she
had run downstairs again. "Do you know? They should be in bed."
"They were in the library earlier in the evening," Mrs. Armatage said.
"I think they were writing again."
"Writing?" repeated Mother Bunker. "Making more of those signs to set up
at the burned house?"
Mr. Armatage chuckled. "Those won't do much good. Sneezer never could
read writing."
"Let us ask Mammy. Rose and Russ may be with her," suggested Mrs.
Armatage.
Upstairs went the two ladies and into Mammy June's room. There was a
night light burning there, but nobody was with the old woman.
"Lawsy me!" exclaimed the old nurse when Mrs. Bunker asked her. "I ain't
seen them childern since I had my supper. No'm. They ain't been here."
The house was searched from cellar to garret by the two gentlemen.
Meanwhile the anxious mother and her hostess went to the library. Russ
had left there some spoiled sheets of cardboard with some of the letters
printed on them. It was easy to see the attempt he and Rose had made to
print plainly a notice to Sneezer, Mammy June's absent son, telling him
that his mother was at the big house.
"The dear things!" said Mrs. Armatage. "Your boy and girl are very kind,
Mrs. Bunker. They want to relieve Mammy's trouble."
"They have gone down there to-night to stick up those signs!" cried Mrs.
Bunker, inspired by a new thought.
"Well, I reckon nothing will hurt 'em," said her friend soothingly.
"I'll tell Mr. Armatage and he will go down there and get them."
This idea impressed both the men when they came back from their
unsuccessful search of the house.
The two men walked briskly along the trail to the burned cabin. The
stars gave them light enough to see all about the clearing when they
arrived. Not a sign of Russ or Rose did they find.
"Do you suppose they went home some other way?" asked Daddy Bunker.
"I don't know. I hope they haven't wandered into the thicket."
As Mr. Armatage spoke both men heard the terrible scream that had first
startled Russ and Rose. Mr. Bunker fairly jumped.
"That can't be the children!" he ejaculated.
The way his companion looked at him told the children's father a good
deal. Mr. Bunker seized Mr. Armatage's arm.
"Tell me! What is it?" he asked.
"Something that hasn't been heard around here for years," said the
planter, his voice trembling a little. "It's the cry of a panther."
Mr. Bunker, although he was practically a city man, had hunted a good
deal and had been in the wilder parts of the country very often. He knew
how terribly dangerous a panther might be on occasion; but he likewise
knew that ordinarily they would not attack human beings. Two little
children lost in the woods in which a panther was roaming up and down
was, however, a fearful thing.
"Get a gun and the hands!" exclaimed Mr. Bunker. "If Russ and Rose have
mistaken the way home, and are in that timber, they may be in peril."
Mr. Armatage started off on a run for the quarters. He knew that some of
his hands had guns, and the quarters were nearer than the big house.
Daddy Bunker, although he was unarmed, started directly into the woods,
trying to mark his course by the repeated screams of the hungry panther.
He might have been lost himself, for there was not much light to mark
the way; but Daddy Bunker could judge the situation of the screaming
panther much better than Russ and Rose had been able to.
He hurried on, gripping a good-sized club that he had found. But, of
course, he knew better than to attack a panther with a club. He might
throw the stick at the animal, however, and frighten it away.
Russ and Rose had gone a long way into the thicket. The panther did not
scream often. So Daddy Bunker did not make much progress in the right
direction. By and by he had to stop and wait for help, or for the
panther to scream again.
He heard finally many voices at the edge of the thicket. Then he began
to see the blaze of torches. A party of colored people--men and
boys--with torches and guns, followed Mr. Armatage.
In addition, all the hunting dogs on the plantation were scouring the
timber. Bobo, the big hound, was at the head of this pack. He struck the
scent of the panther at last, and his long and mournful howl was almost
as awe-inspiring as the cry of the panther.
"Come on, Bunker!" shouted Mr. Armatage, when the party had overtaken
the Northern man. "The dogs are the best leaders. Bobo has got a scent
for any kind of trail. Come on!"
The negroes shouted and swung their torches. Perhaps they made so much
noise and had so many lights because they somewhat feared the "ha'nts"
that many of them talked about and believed in.
But the two white men were not thinking of ghosts. They feared what
might have happened to the two children if they had met the panther.
Just at this time, too, Russ and Rose were not thinking of ghosts. The
panther was not at all ghostly. He had four great paws, each armed with
claws that seemed quite capable of tearing to pieces the roof boards of
the cabin the children had taken refuge in.
"He'll get to us! He will! He will!" Rose cried over and over.
"No, he won't," said her brother, but his voice trembled. "I--I don't
see how he can."
"Let's run out again while he's on the roof, and run home," said Rose.
"We don't know the way home," objected her brother.
"We can find it. I don't want to be shut up here with that cat."
"It's not so bad. He hasn't got in yet."
But Rose ran to the door, and then she made another discovery that
added to her fright. The door could not be opened! The spring lock on
the outside had snapped and there was no way of springing the bolt from
inside the shack.
"Now see what we've done!" she wailed. "Russ Bunker! we are shut into
the place, and can't get out, and that thing will come down and claw us
all to pieces."
With this Rose cast herself upon the ground and could not be comforted.
In fact, at the moment, Russ could not think of a word to say that would
comfort his sister. He was just as much frightened as Rose was.