Going ashore, soon after getting up, Frank knelt down alongside the log where he had seen the shadowy figure bound off.

“I say, Jerry!” he presently called out.

“Want me?” asked that worthy, folding up his blanket so that it could hang and get the breeze, whether they moved on or remained where they were.

“Yes.  Come here.  You’ll be interested, I think.”

Jerry quickly reached his side.

“What’s doing?” he asked, eagerly searching with his eyes the ground near Frank.

“Bend lower, for the sign is rather faint.  What d’ye make of that, and that?  Is it the paw of a bobcat?” asked the one on his knees, with an expressive smile.

“Great Jehosaphat!  No!  Then it was a panther, after all!” cried Jerry.

“I think I’m safe in saying yes to that question,” replied Frank.

“And now don’t you wish you’d shot him?”

“Well, yes, if I had been positive, which I couldn’t be, under the circumstances, you see.  Perhaps I may be lucky enough to run across one of the breed again when there can be no uncertainty, for I would like very much to say I’d knocked over a panther,” was the reply Frank made.

“Say!  Shall we cook breakfast again on the shore?” called Will from on board the boat.

“We might as well.  There will be plenty of occasions when we’ll just have to do it aboard, and this fire seems cheerful like,” replied Jerry.

Frank agreeing with him, they carried the necessary utensils ashore, and preparations were begun looking toward the getting of a bounteous meal.

“Wonder how our good friend, Black George, feels this morning?  Hello!  We’re going to have visitors, I see.  Look what’s coming down the river, boys!”

As Bluff spoke they ceased eating and turned to gaze upstream.  A boat was advancing rapidly, with the aid of the current and a pair of stout ashen oars.  Several men occupied the craft which was quite roomy.

“Say, they’ve got some dogs there.  Ain’t those bloodhounds, Frank?” whispered Will, for the boat was now close by, the men craning their necks to look at the launch.

“I believe they are.  Perhaps this is the sheriff on the run for our black friend, George,” returned Frank.

“Oh!  I hope not.  I don’t believe the poor chap is as dangerous as all that.  I have an idea he’s more sinned against than sinning,” replied Will, who always looked on the better side of those he met, and hence was an easy mark for sharpers.

The men in the boat came ashore.  Our friends then saw that the dogs were of a black-and-tan color, with long ears, and the aspect that distinguishes bloodhounds.

“Mornin’, neighbors.  Takin’ a trip down the river, I see.  That’s right.  Like to see youngsters enjyin’ themselves.  I’m the sheriff o’ this heah county, an’ these gentlemen is my deputies.  We’re a-lookin’ fo’ a desprit scoundrel thet hes been doin’ heaps o’ mischief ’round heah.  His latest work was tuh rob the house o’ a cotton planter named Davis, an’ nigh about kill the old man.  We want him, an’ we’re jest ’bout determined not tuh go back without the skunk.  Don’t s’pose yuh could ‘a’ set eyes on sech a pizen critter, gents?” said the leader.