Frank swung his gun up to his shoulder, and his eye glanced along the shining barrel. He could give a pretty accurate guess as to the exact spot where the panther must show up; and he was covering that place.
Just as he expected, the alarmed beast, forgetting its former design of keeping away from the enemy in the cockleshell of a boat that danced on the heaving water of the Mississippi, came leaping around the corner of the cabin. Possibly it had taken a sudden notion to return once more to its former perch among the lower limbs of the floating tree; since the houseboat did not seem to be such a desirable location after all, with all those noises so close by.
Frank did not wait to find out. He had no idea of troubling the panther by asking its intentions. The opportunity for which he had been waiting so long was now within his grasp; and as quickly as he could properly aim at the beast his finger only too eagerly pressed the trigger.
There was a single report, not at all like the crash of Bluff’s heavy shotgun. Immediately a shout broke forth from within the cabin, showing that no sooner had those in hiding carried out their part of the proceedings, than they jumped over to the other windows to see what would happen.
“You got him that time, Frank!” Bluff was heard to whoop.
“Oh! and this wire mesh prevented me from snapping him decently; I’m sure it won’t be even a halfway good picture!” echoed Will.
“Bully boy!” shouted Jerry, from the branches of the tree.
Frank was satisfied, for he saw the beast kicking his last on the deck of the houseboat which he had boarded, and taken full possession of, in such a bold and unheard-of manner.
Then, a couple of seconds later, the door of the cabin burst open, to allow Bluff to rush upon the deck, carrying his weapon; and evidently only wishing that some power would give the cat the balance of its nine lives, so that it might regain its feet, and make it necessary for him to pour in a volley at close quarters.
But even as he arrived upon the scene it seemed to become still.
“It’s dead, Frank!” cried Bluff, in what seemed to be a disappointed voice.
“Glad to hear it,” returned the other, as he dropped his gun, and took to the paddle once more; for he knew that they must get the wretched fugitives of the flood out of the treetop before it separated from the houseboat.