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.

"