Bluff had read more or less about the strange adventures that befall hunters of big game. He also remembered how one man had fished for his gun, and successfully, under similar conditions.
Having no cord in his pocket, he deliberately tore his handkerchief into strips and knotted them together. When this failed to reach the ground, he fastened it to the end of a long and stout "sucker," or sprout, which he cut from the body of the tree.
A running loop was made at the other end, for he could see that his gun lay in such a position that the barrel was tilted.
Bluff then began to angle. Many times he came near accomplishing his purpose, when something occurred to break up his plans.
"I'll never give up," he declared, when the elk moved forward, as if suspecting something, and endeavored to catch the dangling noose in its antlers, which Bluff would not have happen for anything.
"If I was trying to catch you, I'd want something stronger than this rag. Now please wander away again, and let me have another try," he said; and then, as the animal did walk off a dozen paces, as if encouraging him to descend, he courteously added, "Thank you."
A minute later he was thrilled to find that his erratic loop had actually dropped over the end of the gun barrel. A quick jerk at the proper instant tightened the clutch, and after that it was the easiest thing in the world to pull the weapon up within reach of his trembling hands.
"Now, we'll see if you're going to have the laugh on me, you old scamp! Hi! Hold on, there! Who said you could walk away? Come back here, and have it out! I dare you!"
The elk, as if suspecting that all was not well, had indeed started to move off. But when Bluff made a great feint of coming down, he succeeded in exciting the animal's anger again, and caution was flung to the winds.
Bluff watched for his chance, and when it came he made sure work of it by sending a bullet through the heart of the fighting elk.
Even then he waited a little while.
"Going to try getting up again? This time I'm ready for you, old fellow!" he said to the fallen beast; but presently it became patent, even to his inexperienced eyes, that the elk had breathed its last.
"Now, if Will were only here," Bluff remarked enviously, as he put one foot on his prize and tried to look very unconcerned, as if knocking down such big game might be a matter of almost daily occurrence with him.
Not knowing how to go about cutting the elk up, Bluff headed back toward the camp. Before leaving the spot he thought to bleed the quarry, after a fashion, for he understood that such a thing was always done to make the meat taste better.
Half an hour later he showed up in the camp. It was next to impossible to get lost in that valley, which might account for Bluff finding his way back with comparative ease.
Jerry was lounging alongside one of the tents, engaged in getting his fishing tackle in order, for a try in the pool below the falls.
"Shall we send the horses out to tote it in?" he asked, after the usual fashion of greeting greenhorns when they come back from a hunt apparently unattended by success.
"Did you hear me shoot?" asked Bluff carelessly.
"Why, yes, twice; and some time apart. What was it—a crow or a jack-rabbit?"
Bluff only smiled as Mr. Mabie came out of the tent and glanced at him.
"What would you say that was, sir?" he asked, thrusting something in front of the old stockman.
Starting back, Mr. Mabie looked hastily at the hairy object.
"An elk's tail, as sure as you live!" he remarked, his face relaxing in a smile.
"What's that?" roared Jerry, springing to his feet.
"Oh, you needn't get excited about it. Do you see the dull spots on my knife? Well, I bled my game, all right, just as I wanted to do with that bully good blade that was left behind; and if Reddy will only go back with me, we can bring the old fellow in on a horse," said Bluff coolly.
"Count me in on that!" exclaimed Will, rushing out of his impromptu dark-room, and waving the bottle in which he was making a solution of hypo.
"I think I'll go along, too," remarked Frank, appearing from some other place.
When the party started forth presently, there were six of them with the horse—the chums, Reddy, and Mr. Mabie himself.
"I am beginning to believe you boys will corral everything in sight if you keep on the way you've started. A grizzly, a sheep, and now an elk; and only thirty hours with me! H'm! Perhaps I may not be able to show you as much about big-game hunting as I expected," said the stockman, who seemed vastly amused at the energy shown by his young guests at the ranch.
"Oh, we can pull a trigger, all right, sir, but there are a thousand things we want to know about these natives that books never teach. I'm like a sponge, and can keep on soaking up information all the time," laughed Frank.
Incautiously, Bluff let fall certain words that gave Jerry a clue as to the true situation.
"A tree! Shot him downward from a tree, eh? Now, since you've so frankly confessed that much, why not tell the whole blooming story, Bluff?" he cried.
"There isn't much to it. I saw the elk. Then I shot him, and he fell over. After that the elk saw me. He chased me about a tree. I remembered how fast Jerry said he ran around when those wild dogs were after him, and I wanted to go him just one better. Then I found a chance to climb when the wounded elk stumbled. After that I made a rope out of my handkerchief and fished with a loop until I caught the barrel of my gun. That's all."
"A whole history in a nutshell. But we must be getting near the place, according to what you said at the start. There are the three oaks growing in a clump. Now where's your dead elk?"
As Frank spoke he turned to Bluff. That individual was staring around in evident bewilderment.
"It was sure here I met him. There's the little glade, and this big tree is the one I climbed up into. I saw him lying there. I know he was dead when I bled him. But I must be blind, for the elk certainly is not here now. Oh! Did he come to life again, and run away?" said poor Bluff, in despair, looking at the tail, which he had thrust into his belt.
"Talk to me about your dreamers!" muttered Jerry, shrugging his shoulders.
"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.
"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened his eyes upon the ground.
Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These things mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some tangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must be signs of the blood that had flowed.
"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to the ground at his feet.
"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle about the tree, just as Bluff says; and—yes, that's blood on the ground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong track. He did have a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming thing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.
"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has some local reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us know what happened, Reddy."
In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself upon his hands and knees.
"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.
"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.
"Cree Indians been here. I can see the print of their moccasins plain as day; and here's where they dragged the elk along, heading toward the river!"
Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, and yet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks. Presently, however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, and he noted that the one who made it wore no heels. His footwear must be moccasins.
"H'm!" remarked Mr. Mabie. "Just what I suspected. The thieving Crees have robbed our young friend of his prize. Too bad! But there are more elk around, Bluff, and I hope you'll have other chances."
"But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge. I calculated on eating a bit of his flank for my dinner. What's the matter with our following up the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?" demanded the disappointed hunter.
"Impossible just now. The river is close by, and they undoubtedly had boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they've shot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across the rascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.
Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to depend on his eyes.
"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my elk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.
"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out of ammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twenty miles for nothing," smiled the other.
"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," said Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.
They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.
"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.
"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hung about here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare set for jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboy replied, in his jerky way.
"Oh! Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all you say makes me believe I was right. They have no arms, or else their powder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid to meet whites. Well, the elk's gone, and we can't mend that. Let's return to camp. You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad."
"Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good long time," said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated the historic tree around which he had done a little Marathon.
"But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluff how valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes," laughed Will.
And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.
Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much trouble.
"How many did there seem to be?" he asked Reddy, a little later.
"You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, two squaws and three pappooses," replied the other.
"But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.
"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder. Under such conditions any redman would steal."
"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way, too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."
Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There were places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.
After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came over to watch him.
"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I was only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."
"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all," laughed Frank.
"Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's all of two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It's been frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up that landing-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough, Frank."
Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered off to do something else. Jerry kept on fishing until he could not get another bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckled beauties.
"Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usual appetite, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn't have some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a shift to try," he said to himself.
The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff by making flying tosses of his rope and lassoing all sorts of objects, from the hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up in the air.
Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he could look down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a great deal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrific force.
"Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there," he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising place to begin his fishing operations.
Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current. From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down into an eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermit trout.
Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he was taking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far as he could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.
Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. The wriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable to just master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to float into the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying the rushing stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the start he could gain his end.
Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn back into the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came a most tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance and the log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.
But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told to do with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The trout was a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task of securing him doubly hard.
"I'll work, all right, for everything I hook here," panted Jerry, after ten minutes had passed, and he tossed his exhausted prize over to the bank.
But he would not give up. Where one such fine, fat fellow held out there was certainly a chance for more, so he continued his fishing.
Unknown to him, Will had also wandered up that steep hillside, searching for a new view of the wonderful cataract. Pushing through the dense thickets, he chanced to catch a glimpse of the lone fisherman.
"Now, that's what I call a picturesque sight! Look at the chap perched out on the very end of that log, with the water rushing below like a mill-race! Here's where I get you, my duck. Fancy to what ends a fisherman will go in order to enjoy his favorite sport."
Will seemed to forget entirely that he was willing to undertake just as long a pilgrimage and buck up against as difficult problems simply to get one snapshot that appealed to his soul.
"There! He's got another fish on! My! How it pulls! I wouldn't be out on that log, doing such a job, for anything. But I just bet Jerry is as happy as a clam. He sets his teeth, and holds on as if he had a whale, and perhaps it is a big un! I must get him again in that position. Why, although he don't know it, he's just giving me the best thing of the day!"
Will rapidly adjusted his camera, and looked down to see that he had the proper focus before snapping the shutter. The light was good up there, and he believed he must have the greatest success with such a picture as that. Besides, it had the genuine article of life in it, which he always sought in taking his views.
Then he pressed his finger, in the belief that he was about to snatch a snapshot bound to give the four chums the keenest satisfaction in days to come.
"Oh!"
The startled exclamation broke involuntarily from the lips of Will even at the very second he took his picture, and he let his beloved camera fall to the ground, at the risk of doing it some material damage.
It was not this seeming mishap that had brought the startled cry from his lips, but the crash of sundering wood, and the sudden disappearance of the lone fisherman below the rim of the river bank; for the log had finally betrayed Jerry, and dropped him into that swirling, maddening current above the high falls!
Will dashed madly toward the river bank. It happened that he was somewhat below the point where Jerry's mishap had come about. Hence, he was able to reach the edge of the stream in a dozen seconds.
Even that short time had been enough to sweep the imperiled lad past the place. Will was thrilled with horror to see his chum in the midst of the churning current, trying to cling to a slippery rock, from which insecure hold he was being gradually but surely sucked by the fierce power exerted by the rushing stream.
Never had the roar of the falls sounded more terrible to poor Will than when he saw Jerry suspended, as it were, above the great drop. Once he lost his hold, he must be swept irresistibly over the edge, down to those cruel rocks below.
Will would have foolishly attempted to reach his chum had he chanced to be opposite the place where Jerry hung on with the desperation of despair. As it was, he could do nothing, which was just as well, for there must only have been two of them given over to the river once he ventured into that mill-race.
"Help! Oh, help!" he shrieked.
The roar of the cataract must have muffled his call, so that it might just as well have been a whisper.
Just as Will was about to give up in despair, and count Jerry as good as lost, he made a sudden discovery. Another figure had appeared on the bank, and just at a point opposite the rock to which Jerry clung.
"Reddy! Save him! save him!" cried Will, wringing his hands.
Then he became mute with suspense. The cowboy did not recklessly rush into the boiling flood, for he knew only too well that such a course could not help the imperiled one. Instead, Will saw him whirling his rope about his head with lightning-like haste.
His heart in his eyes, Will continued to stare, holding his very breath. He saw the coils of rope fly out just as when Reddy was giving his exhibition in camp. Not far did they have to speed, for Jerry was close to the shore.
"Oh! what luck! He's done it! He's done it! Jerry has the rope now, and he is coming in, hand over hand! Bully! bully! bully!"
Will was so excited that he fairly danced up and down as he shouted these words aloud. Then, bethinking himself of what a magnificent picture he was losing, he took several steps in the direction of the spot where his camera lay. Stopping hastily, as his affection for his chum more than counterbalanced his love for an effective scene, he turned around and hurried to join the others.
Jerry was ashore, and wringing the hand of Reddy, when Will arrived.
Regardless of the rescued boy's wet clothes, Will threw his arms around him.
"Oh! you gave me such a fright, Jerry! I'm quivering all over! How lucky Reddy happened to be here, and with his rope, too!" After saying which he turned his attention to the smiling cowboy, and squeezed his hand ardently.
"I sure beat my record that time, boys. I've roped some queer things, but never a feller that was going whoopin' over a falls. Don't know why I slung the old lariat over my arm when I started up here to see what luck Jerry had. Mighty glad now I did, though. It'd been purty hard to get him out with only a stick to stretch over."
Reddy was extremely modest, and only too willingly agreed not to say a word about the mishap and rescue to any of the others; and Will was also bound to secrecy by Jerry.
Back in the woods they made a fire, where Jerry succeeded in drying his clothes.
"Anyhow, I saved that fish," he announced, with a satisfied shake of the head.
Will looked at the cowboy inquiringly.
"Sure thing he did. When he came ashore he had that line fast in his hand, and pulled the trout in before he'd even shake. He's a real sport, all right," said Reddy, with admiration in his manner.
"It seems as though these things are born in one. Now, I'd have dropped my rod the very first thing, and howled for help," remarked Will.
"How about your camera?" asked Jerry wickedly.
"H'm! That's a different thing. But when I saw you go in I did let that fall. Luckily, no damage was done. My heart would be broken if the blessed little black box got out of shape. But I've one picture of you on that log," announced Will.
"And that will be enough to give me a clammy feeling every time I look at it," nodded Jerry, who was in secret more shaken by his recent terrible experience than he cared to show.
They went down a little later, Jerry carrying his two dearly-earned trout. And when the others praised the fisherman that evening at supper for supplying their camp table, they little dreamed how near their hard-working chum had come to disaster in his efforts to land the enticing finny beauties of the river.
Besides the trout, they enjoyed mutton that night, for Frank's mountain sheep was brought into use. Perhaps it was tough, perhaps the flavor did not strike the boys quite as favorably as some mutton they had eaten at home, but such trifles could not dampen their enthusiasm a particle, and they voted the meal a grand success all around.
Seated about the blaze afterward, they chatted until late. Bluff was inclined to be a bit moody, and sat by himself, listening to all that was said, but taking no share in the conversation.
Frank noticed that he seemed to fondle his rifle more than usual, and he believed the other must be thinking of the elk he had shot, but which had been stolen by those wandering thieves of Crees.
"He's still worrying about that butcher knife of his," whispered Jerry, nudging Frank as he spoke. "I wonder will the fellow ever forget it?"
"Now, I was watching him, and, to tell the truth, I fancy Bluff has become aroused to the delight of bringing down big game. That elk was a revelation to him. See how he listens while Billy is telling of the panther tracks he saw not a great way off. I wouldn't put it past Bluff to aspire to knocking over a panther if the chance ever came his way.
"Huh! I hope he is lucky enough to get a fatal shot in, then; for one of those gentry is apt to maul a fellow good and hard if only wounded. Billy has been telling of some fierce times he's had with the beasts. His arms are all scarred up from deep cuts made by the claws of a panther years ago," remarked Jerry.
"Whew! Hear what he says? will you?" remarked Frank.
"Why, yes, kid," observed the old cowboy, in answer to a question Bluff had put, "sometimes I've knowed 'em to jump into a camp and snatch the meat right from under the nose of a feller. Let a painter git good an' hungry, an' he ain't afraid of anythin' but fire. Then, ag'in, I've knowed 'em to act as cowardly as coyotes. I kinder reckon the season has considerable to do with their actin'."
"But that was only one man. The beast wouldn't dare jump in a camp like this, no matter how hungry he might be?" continued Bluff, who seemed strangely interested in the subject, Frank thought.
The old cowpuncher laughed as though amused.
"That's somethin' I'd hate to commit myself on, younker. All I say is a painter ain't to be depended on. He might prove a coward, like some cats, and again you'd be fair astonished at his darin'. Long ago I made up my mind never to give him more of a chance than I could help. It's war to the knife between me and any such prowlin' critter. I can't git my gun workin' too quick to please me when I sees the yaller eyes of a painter hoverin' round my camp."
"Are their eyes always yellow?" asked Bluff eagerly.
"I reckons they are, kid; leastways all that I ever see was marked that way," replied the cowboy, reaching out for a brand with which to light the cigarette he had been rolling between his fingers, just as Reddy was also doing at the time.
"Like those yonder, do you mean?" said Bluff, pointing behind Billy, to a point where the dense thicket came close to the border of the camp.
Every eye was instantly turned in that direction. Frank himself was thrilled when he discovered that there were twin glowing eyes among those bushes, eyes that had all the attributes of the cat tribe.
Various exclamations arose from the group.
"By gum! It's a painter, sure as you live!" said Billy calmly.
"Never heard of one so bold!" whispered Reddy hoarsely, feeling for the weapon he usually carried attached to his belt.
"Everybody sit quiet, and see what he means to do. He won't attack us, but it may be you'll see him make a jump for the balance of that sheep over yonder. The scent of the game has aroused his hunger. Look at him raise his head to see!"
Mr. Mabie spoke these words in a low but tense tone. He was more or less excited by the strange actions of the prowling panther.
"I reckon it's a mother, with hungry cubs near by. She's just bound to get some grub for the kits, men or no men. Now, if you lie low, and watch, I reckon you'll see something you never expected to see in your born days."
Billy sat there motionless. Only Frank saw the movement of Bluff when he raised his rifle, and while he would have warned his chum against the folly of firing, before he could frame words to carry his meaning, the quick report came, causing a sensation among those around the fire.
The crouching beast, infuriated by receiving a sudden, painful wound, launched straight out, and landed in the midst of the campers!
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.
"Give him another call, Frank!"
"That fellow beats all creation for lagging! I believe he'd rather snap off his old camera than eat, any day. If he doesn't look out, that panther may get—Glory to goodness! What's that, Reddy?" cried Jerry.
"Sounds like a bit of an avalanche, though this here is a queer time of year for that. Generally comes, you know, in snow time, or when the rains arrive," was the cowboy's ready answer.
"But—Will—he may have started it, and gone down into one of these beastly holes!" observed Bluff uneasily.
"Let's go back, fellows, and make sure," remarked Frank instantly.
They retraced their steps, Reddy leading the way, and every one on the lookout for any signs of an unusual happening.
"There's where it fell, and it looks like quite a lot of stuff had gone down the slope," said their guide presently.
"Hello, Will! Will!" shouted Frank.
"Well, I'm waiting for you," said a quiet voice close at hand.
"Where in the world are you, pard?" burst out Jerry.
"Oh, here," came the reply.
"Ginger! I believe he's down the bank!" cried Bluff.
"Just what he is! Come here, fellows! Did you ever see anything to beat that? Talk to me about your lucky dogs! Here's one that takes the cake every time!" sang out Jerry, as he thrust his head out beyond the edge of the platform where the slope began.
"Oh, I don't know. There have been cases where people have been saved from all sorts of disasters by the fortunate presence of a rope. Chuck us a loop, Reddy, will you, please?" said Will, and Jerry became as dumb as an oyster.
No wonder Frank laughed, even while he watched the cowboy dropping his lariat down as the other so coolly requested. Will had slid some twenty feet down the steep bank, along with the loose surface stuff, which gathered force as it proceeded. Then a projecting stone had caught the bag of his coat, and he was supported in this fashion by the stout fabric.
"What are you trying to do down there? Expect to cut me out of my job as the cliff climber of the party?" asked Frank jokingly.
"Not so that you'd notice. Thought I might get a better view down along here. But first of all, save my precious camera, before I consent to come up," answered Will, and he insisted upon fastening the same to the dangling rope.
Bluff saw his chance to get back at his chum for more than one indignity along the same line that he had suffered in the past, so he called out:
"Here, you! Just hold your horses! I'm going over yonder and strike you off as you hang there. It will do to amuse the girls when we get home. We don't often have a chance to bring the photographer into these pictures. Now, here you are. Look pleasant! There! That job's done! Now yank him up, fellows, and don't be too easy with him. He deserves a good digging for scaring us so."
But Will had suffered no material harm from his little slide.
"Glad I stopped part way," he observed, looking down, "for it's quite some distance to the bottom, and then those rocks would have bruised me more than a little. Yes, I agree with Bluff, there; it's better to be born lucky than rich."
After that they saw to it that Will did not lag behind. He was not to be trusted any more than could be helped.
Reddy was as good as his word. He eventually brought them within sight of several feeding elk. They carried out his further directions to the letter, and were thus enabled to approach within easy gunshot of the unsuspicious animals.
A program had been arranged, and every one knew just what part in it he was expected to play. Consequently, there was no confusion. Frank, Jerry and Bluff had their chance to aim. To each was assigned a different quarry, though after the first shot they were to fire as they pleased.
"Ready?" whispered the master of ceremonies, after Will had performed his little, necessary operation with his camera that would produce happy results.
"Yes," said Frank.
"Ditto!" from Jerry.
"Same here," came from Bluff.
"Then go!"
There followed a crash of firearms. Instantly confusion broke out among the little herd of feeding elk. One was down, another went limping off, to fall as Frank sent in a second hasty shot; while the balance fairly flew off in their fright.
"Hurrah!" shouted the hunters, as they saw that they had met with splendid success, since two of the big animals had fallen to their guns.
Bluff looked grimly disappointed.
"I hit my buck, for I saw him go down on his knees," he asserted moodily.
"Oh, that ain't anything. An elk often runs off with several bad wounds. I only hope he don't die in the woods somewhere," said Reddy, examining the tracks of those that had escaped.
"Will it pay us to follow them up and see if Bluff's buck fell?" asked Frank, more to please his chum than because they needed the game.
"Nope. The buck runs like he wasn't even hurt much. No ketchin' up with them fellers after that riot call. We'd best pay attention to what we've got, and return to camp," replied the guide; and Bluff shrugged his shoulders, saying:
"But I hit him, anyhow, I'll tell you that, fellows."
Frank found that all Reddy meant to do was to hang the two elk up, after they had cut some choice portions for immediate use. The other cowboys would come with the horses, on their way down the river, on the morrow, and secure the game.
"We got fooled out of elk steaks once and don't mean to again, I tell you," said Jerry, as he shouldered his portion of the load.
So they returned to camp.
"What's this?" said Mr. Mabie as they came filing in. "Back already, and only out two hours? Got some meat, too, I see. That's good. Such appetites as you boys are developing threaten to eat us out of house and home soon, unless we eke out with game. Who cut up the elk?"
"The boys all took a hand. They wanted to learn," smiled Reddy.
"I kind of thought they had," nodded the stockman, who could easily see that it was not the work of an experienced hand.
Bluff failed to catch the twinkle of humor in the other's eyes.
"Yes, and I could have made even a better job if I'd had the knife along I foolishly went and left at home," he remarked disconsolately, whereat Jerry, Will and Frank exchanged looks, and shrugged their shoulders, but said nothing; for in a case of that kind words are useless.
They were all very enthusiastic that night over the feast. The cook had dutifully pounded the steaks before placing the same on the fire, so that if they seemed tough it was not his fault.
The meat, however, was sweet and tasty; and besides, with hunger serving as the best-known sauce, who could complain?
Bluff kept on the lookout for the mate of his panther, but if the old fellow was prowling around he had more discretion than to show himself while these hunters were near by.
With the morning the camp was to be abandoned. Tents came down while they were eating breakfast, and everything was packed away in as small a compass as possible, for carrying on the backs of the pack horses, which were brought in from the pen, or corral, where they had been kept all this while, in charge of a guard.
The three bullboats awaited the adventurous ones. These were of the type much used in this far region of the Northwest, being fashioned of tough hides of bulls, and impervious to water.
Besides their guns, which were strapped to their backs, the voyagers carried little or nothing. In case of an upset they did not stand to worry over anything except saving their own lives.
So they quitted the camp under the cataract, where they had spent several very enjoyable days.