Chapter 9: In Perilous Plight.

Donalblane’s paralysing panic was only for the moment. The power of action presently returned to him, and, grasping his gun, he aimed at the diabolical eyes, while he shouted to his companions: “Up wi’ ye!—up wi’ ye! We’re in danger!”

So heavy was their slumber, however, that neither of them stirred at his call; but when the report of the gun rang out, they both bounded to their feet just in time to see a great dark body fly through the air with a fearful scream, and light upon poor Donalblane, who fell back beneath it! They realised at once what had happened, and Mr. Sutherland, seizing his musket, and the Indian his spear, sprang to the boy’s assistance.

So completely did the panther cover him that Mr. Sutherland dared not fire, lest the bullet should penetrate both bodies; but he sought a chance to use the butt of his musket on the brute’s head, while the Indian made play with his spear, stabbing it into the creature’s side. Meantime Donalblane, into whose shoulder the terrible teeth had sunk while the merciless claws were tearing his clothes to ribbons, fighting for his life, with both hands buried in the soft, thick fur, strove frantically to throttle his mighty assailant.

Had he been alone there could have been no doubt as to the issue of the struggle—the panther must have done him to death; but the stunning blows from Mr. Sutherland and the repeated stabs of the Indian’s spear soon began to tell.

They had not only weakened the brute’s strength, but they turned his attention from Donalblane to his other opponents, and, after a space of time that seemed an eternity to the boy, but was in reality barely a minute, the panther, giving a hideous growl, relaxed both teeth and claws in order to prepare for a spring at Mr. Sutherland.

This gave the latter the opportunity for which he had been waiting. He was an expert shot, and never had had more need of his skill than at this moment. Quickly throwing his gun to his shoulder, and aiming full at the panther’s breast, he pulled the trigger.

Happily the musket did not miss fire, and the heavy charge sped straight to its mark, going clean through the animal’s heart. With one last fiendish scream the fearful creature sprang straight up into the air, and fell back a limp, lifeless mass of fur. Not waiting to look at his quarry, Mr. Sutherland rushed to Donalblane, who lay senseless on the sward, with the blood streaming from nearly a score of wounds.

“My poor boy,” he exclaimed, as he took Donald’s head upon his knees, “surely that black brute has not killed you!” Then to the Indian, who was wonderingly examining the panther, he called indignantly, “Leave that thing alone, and get me some water—quick!”