BRANK was a big-feeling boy just then. He knew that he had done something that many an older person than himself would hesitate to undertake. He was fast becoming accustomed to scenes of excitement and danger, and he thought only of the feat¹ he had accomplished², and not of the perilous³ position in which he had placed himself but a few moments before. What if his gun had missed fire, or he had only wounded the panther? How long could he and Brave have withstood his attacks? The panther would certainly have conquered them. And what could he have done if he had been disabled in the depths of those woods, so far from any human being? Such questions as these passed through the reckless young hunter’s mind, but he dismissed them with the thought that the panther was dead, and that he had nothing to fear.
 
The animal was one of the largest of his kind, measuring, as near as Frank could judge, fully⁴ seven feet in length, including the tail. The rifleshot which had broken his leg had made an ugly-looking wound, and he had received both charges of buck-shot in his head; but the skin was not spoiled, and Frank’s first thought was to take it off and cure it for stuffing.
 
Around the tree was a little space, which was clear of bushes, and was probably as good a camping-ground as he could find. So he placed his gun where he could put his hand upon it at a moment’s warning, and removed his haversack, hanging it up on a small tree that stood near. He then unfastened his belt, and took from it his blanket and a small tin pail, which was to do duty as a coffee-pot. With the aid of his heavy hunting-knife, he soon erected⁵ a hut—rude-looking, indeed, but sufficiently⁶ strong and tight to protect him from the wind. Over the floor he spread hemlock⁷ branches to the depth of four or five inches, and the camp was finished. He then kindled⁸ a fire in front of the hut, and filled his pail with snow, and hung it on a crane to boil. In a little while the turkey, which the panther had killed, was dressed, and cooking as fast as a hot fire could make it. Before his supper was cooked, the panther was hauled into the cabin, and his skin taken off, and hung upon a frame to dry.
 
The turkey was equally divided between master and dog; and as neither had eaten any dinner, not a vestige⁹ of the fowl¹⁰ was left. While Frank was building his camp, he had heard a faint ripple¹², like the noise of a small water-fall; and he was somewhat surprised thereat, for the intensely cold weather had formed ice, even in the swiftest water, almost two feet in thickness. As soon as he had finished his supper, he started out to see what had occasioned the noise, taking the trap with him, intending to find a good place to set it. When he arrived at the stream, he found it had its source in a salt spring, or, as the hunters would call it, a “deer-lick.” The snow on the banks was trodden as hard as a floor, and the paths that the animals had made, in going to and from the stream, ran up into the woods in all directions. These springs are favorite resorts of deer and other wild animals, which delight to taste their brackish¹⁴ waters; and it is a common way of killing¹⁵ deer, in places where they are scarce, to watch one of these “licks” during the night, and shoot the animals as they approach.
 
Frank walked up one of the paths that led to the spring, and began to make preparations to set his trap. It was just the place for it, as he would be certain to catch something before morning. He first dug a hole with his hunting-knife, directly in the middle of the path, and the next job was to set the trap. He knew how it ought to be done. But the powerful jaws¹⁶ of the “Ole Settler” had often resisted the efforts of a stronger person than himself. After half an hour’s work, during which time the skirts of his coat had been cut almost entirely¹⁷ off by the long, sharp teeth, he succeeded in getting it set, and placed safely in the hole which he had dug for its reception. Then, with his hunting-knife, he cut down a good-sized sapling that stood near, and to this he fastened one end of a short, heavy chain; the other end of the chain he fastened to the trap. After he had placed every thing to his satisfaction, he carefully covered the trap and chain with snow, removed all the twigs¹⁸ and leaves he had scattered¹⁹ about, and returned to his camp. He employed himself until dark in gathering²⁰ his evening’s supply of fire-wood, and then lay down on his bed of boughs²¹, well satisfied with his day’s work.
 
As it grew dark, it seemed to him that his camp became the center of attraction to every wild animal in the woods for a circle of ten miles around. The owl¹¹ flew down around his fire, uttering his dismal²² scream; the barking of foxes was heard in all directions; and, now and then, a dark object would come out of the bushes, and gaze at him a moment with eyes that shone through the darkness like coals of fire, and then beat a hasty retreat. Once or twice he heard a sound that made him reach, rather hurriedly, for his gun—the same sound that the trapper, the night before, had pronounced the “sniff of a painter.”
 
Frank did not feel exactly safe in going to sleep, and sat for a long time with his gun in his hand. Several times he was half inclined to shoot at some of the animals that came around the camp; but he finally concluded to keep the peace as long as they would. In a few moments after he had made this resolution, he sank back on his blanket, and was soon fast asleep.
 
Near midnight he was awakened²³ by a chorus of loud yells. Starting up, he found his camp surrounded by wolves. The fire had almost gone out, and the wolves appeared to be growing bolder by degrees, having already approached quite close to the cabin. Frank started to his feet and threw a firebrand among them, when they scattered in every direction, and were out of sight in a moment. He was not disturbed again, and when he awoke it was daylight. After putting a good supply of wood on the fire, and hanging his coffee-pot on the crane, he shouldered his gun, and started toward the place where the trap had been set, hoping to find something in it that would make a breakfast for him.
 
There was something in it, beyond a doubt, for both trap and clog²⁴ were gone; and the way Brave growled²⁶ and showed his teeth led him to believe that he had caught something besides a deer. The hole in which he had placed the trap was trodden down as though a flock of sheep had passed over it. It was a matter of some difficulty to follow the trail of the animal that had been caught in the trap, for he had moved directly up the path, and the only “sign” that Frank had to guide him was, now and then, a slight scraping in the snow, which he knew had been made by the clog, as the animal dragged it after him. He followed the trail in this manner for nearly half a mile, when it suddenly turned off into the woods, where he could follow it up considerably²⁷ faster. Here he discovered that there was a bear in the trap, for the prints of his great feet were in the snow. His progress had evidently been retarded²⁸ a good deal, for, at intervals²⁹ along the trail, the broken bushes and trodden snow showed where the clog had caught and held him fast.
 
Brave led the way, but they had not gone far before he began to show signs of uneasiness. A little further on, he suddenly came to a halt, and stood gazing steadily³⁰ before him, toward a thicket³¹ of bushes, that looked as though it would afford a splendid hiding-place for a wild animal.
 
Frank began to be excited now, and his hand was none of the steadiest as he cocked his gun and stooped down to caress³² his dog. He had faced the wounded pa............