“I knew it wouldn’t be long before he got next t’ the fact that I was down an’ out, an’ I was right.  I’ve hearn people say thet animals don’t reason, but they’re a long ways from hittin’ the bull’s-eye.  It warn’t long afore thet painter had everythin’ settled in his own mind, an’ had decided thet I was helpless fer some reason an’ would be easy pickin’s fer him.  He got up on all fours, and began to growl a little an’ switch his tail.  I knew then that it wouldn’t be long before he came fer me, an’ I took a fresh grip on the axe.  I knew I didn’t have a chance, but I figgered on puttin’ my mark on the critter before he did fer me, anyway.

“He crept closer an’ closer, growlin’ and spittin’ away fer all the world like a big tomcat gettin’ ready t’ fight.  I makes a swing at him with the axe, an’ he jumps back a little, and fer a few seconds jest crouches an’ glares at me, his eyes like two big, gleamin’ emeralds.  Then he gathers himself fer a spring, an’ I gets ready fer what I knows is comin’.

“Suddenly he shot through the air, an’ as he comes down I slams out at him with the axe.  The critter dodges even while he’s in the air, but he couldn’t squirm aside altogether, an’ the sharp axe caught him a gash that laid his shoulder open.  He gives a great yell, and then all I can remember is his landin’ on me like a cyclone, fetchin’ me a blow on the side of the head with his paw that it’s a wonder didn’t do fer me then an’ there.  After that everythin’ went dark, an’ the next I knew I was lyin’ in my bunk at camp, with my leg done up in splints, my left arm, that had been chawed by the painter, done up in bandages, an’ my head so bound up that there wasn’t much left out but my nose.

“The boys told me that when I didn’t show up at supper-time they began to get anxious, and when I hadn’t showed up an hour later they got up a searchin’ party and set out to look fer me in the direction they knew I’d be comin’ from.  They’d gone quite a ways when they heard the yell the painter gave when I slashed him with the axe, and rushed over in the direction o’ the sound.  They got there jest in the nick o’ time, too, I reckon.  Two minutes more an’ I’d ‘a’ been done fer, sure.”

Sandy ceased speaking, and everybody drew a long breath.  “Did they kill the panther?” inquired Bert.

“No, worse luck,” replied Sandy; “it was dark, and when they got close the critter made off before they had a chance at a shot.  But, say!” he exclaimed, “the storm’s over an’ the sun is out, an’ here we are loafin’ in here yet.  Vamoose, boys! scatter!” and they all piled out into a fresh and made-over world.  Everything was washed clean by the torrential rainfall, and, strange to say, comparatively little damage had been done by the terrific wind.  The ranchmen set about repairing whatever had been destroyed, and the three comrades walked toward the ranchhouse, discussing Sandy’s tale as they went.

CHAPTER XII