The panther leaped, but fell short.  The startled men on the rock saw it threshing the ground in its death struggle.

“That was a lucky shot for you,” said Ollie.

“Lucky for me,” repeated Young Matt slowly, eyeing his well dressed companion; “Well, yes, I reckon it was.”

“Who fired it?”

The big fellow shook his head in a puzzled way.

Stewart looked surprised.  “Wasn’t it someone hunting with you?”

“With me?  Huntin’?  Not to-night;” muttered the other still searching the hill side.

“Well, I’d like to know what you were doing here alone, then;” said Ollie suspiciously.

At his tone, Young Matt turned upon him savagely, “’Tain’t none of your business, what I was a doin’ here, that I can see.  I reckon these hills are free yet.  But it’s mighty lucky for us both that someone was ’round, whoever he is.  Maybe you ain’t thankful that that critter ain’t fastened on your neck.  But I am.  An’ I’m goin’ to find out who fired that shot if I can.”

He started forward, but Ollie called imperiously, “Hold on there a minute, I want to say something to you first.”  The other paused, and young Stewart continued; “I don’t know what you mean by prowling around this time of night.  But it looks as though you were watching me.  I warn you fairly, don’t try it again.  I know how you feel toward Miss Lane, and I know how you have been with her while I was away.  I tell you it’s got to stop.  She is to be my wife, and I shall protect her.  You may just as well—­”

He got no further.  The big man sprang forward to face him with a look that made the dandy shrink with fear.  “Protect Sammy Lane from me!  Protect her, you!  You know what I feel toward her?  You!” He fairly choked with his wild rage.

The frightened Ollie drew a weapon from his pocket, but, with a snarling laugh, the big fellow reached out his great hand and the shining toy went whirling through the air.  “Go home,” said the giant.  “Damn you, go home!  Don’t you hear?  For God’s sake get out o’ my sight ’fore I forget again!”

Ollie went.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Ollie’s dilemma.

As “Preachin’ Bill” used to say, “Every hound has hits strong pints, but some has more of ’em.”

Young Stewart was not without graces pleasing to the girl whom he hoped to make his wife.  He seemed to know instinctively all those little attentions in which women so delight, and he could talk, too, very entertainingly of the things he had seen.  To the simple girl of the backwoods, he succeeded in making the life in the city appear very wonderful, indeed.  Neither was Sammy insensible to the influence of his position, and his prospective wealth, with the advantages that these things offered.  Then, with all this, he loved her dearly; and when, if you please, was ever a woman wholly unmoved by the knowledge that she held first place in a man’s heart?