Sunset came; and telling Nat that I would not return to camp without the deer, I started for the scene of my former ill luck.  I was delighted to find, that by following Nat’s instructions, I was able to move over the ground much easier than the night before.  Still, it was pretty hard work.  But I persevered; and upon reaching the proper place, sounded my call—­ once, twice, thrice; and in a short time, saw a fine fat doe coming directly towards me, apparantly listening for a repetition of the sound.  Once more I used the ‘call:’  the imitation was perfect.  She approached a little nearer to me, and stopped.

I dropped my head, and once again sounded the ‘call,’ endeavoring to give it the quick, impatient tone of the young when in danger.

The effect was perfect.  I fairly laughed to myself, to see the doe bound towards me until she stood within easy rifle range, when she suddenly stopped again, as though frightened at her own temerity.

I brought my rifle to my shoulder, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when a slight rustling in the grass at my right attracted my attention.  Thinking of that snake, I turned my eyes in the direction of the sound, and saw, to my horror and amazement, not the snake, but a large panther, not twenty yards away, and creeping stealthily towards me, with glaring eyes, gleaming white teeth, and ears well laid back upon his head.  For an instant I was dumbfounded; then, recollecting myself, I turned the rifle and gave him its contents.

The creature made a convulsive leap into the air, and dropped to the ground—­dead; and I—­well, I believe I started for camp to tell Nat.

We packed the carcass into camp and while removing the skin, Nat took occasion to congratulate me, on being able to so perfectly imitate a fawn as to lure a panther from its lair; advising me however, to give up deer-stalking until I struck a better streak of luck.

“There boys, you see what the ‘buck-fever’ did for me.  We are all liable to take it.”

“Yes; but you killed the panther,” said Hal.

“True; but it was only a piece of luck that might not happen again in a dozen times, and I didn’t kill the deer.”

The boys agreed that my story was both amusing and interesting; and as for old Jerry, he laughed most heartily at my experience, saying that it reminded him of his first adventure with a bear.

The boys, eager for another story, urged him to relate it then, but Jerry declined; promising them however, that they should have it the next night.

Early on the following morning, we once more started on the road; and for two days, met with no incident worthy of note.

We were now approaching the section of country bordering on the Rio Pecos, one of the most barren and desolate portions on our whole route.

This stream runs for hundreds of miles through the plains, its course being marked by the growth of no living green thing:  in fact, you do not know of its presence, until you stand upon its banks.