The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1900-12-11

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Janet felt orly the lunge Of ths heavy
body.
down upon the paws, lazily cycling the
combat The moon shone with bril-
liant whiteness that brought out every
detail of the scene.
Rexell moved. Instantly the PAN
ther lifted her head and shifted sus-
piciously. She had scented them. AS
she slowly crept toward them Rexell
bent forward. When only few feet
distant he fired, but the panther had
crouched for it's spring. and the bullet
few harmlessly over its head.
Janet felt only the lunge OF the
heavy body, binding pain and
nothing.
Mrs. Ashford's face was the first she
saw-an animate interrogation point.
They had been missed, but there was
no uneasiness felt until dark. After
waiting a reasonable time, Col Ash
ford decided to search for them. They
had not gone far before the shots
guided them to where Rexell was help
lessly endeavoring to bind up Janets
shoulder and arm where the panthers
claws had ripped their way through
the soft white flesh.
Half in the water lay two panthers,
torn and gashed by tooth and claw into
mere masses of bleeding rags. One of
them was still alive, but a bullet from
the colonel's rifle ended its agony.
AS the camp invalid, Janet wanted
not for company. 1t was marvellous,
for so absorbed an angler. how little
interest Rexell showed in the fishing.
Mrs. Ashford was in her element.
There was one pursuit that woman de-
lighted in with gamblers thirst
matchmaking; and chance like the
present was not to be lightly regarded.
The week wore on to its close.
Janet lay in the hammock, idly
watching the camp-ires flicker and
keeping up a disjointed chat with
Rexell.
They were to break camp on the fol-
lowing day, and a general chorus of re-
greet went up from the scattered groups
about the tents.
1t was a scene that well might lin
ger. Just enough breeze to ruff1e the
lake. There was drowsy, far-off
murmur, the night voices of the
swamp. The naked arms of the syca-
more flung long, black bars of shadow
over the moon-lit glory of the tawny
water. Below the tents, swirl of
laughter, that centered around Ger
trude Allen, varied by the "plunkity-
PUNK" of the banjo, and Jack An
drews' deep baritone, proclaiming:
There's only one girl for me-"
Hugh, what led you to accuse me
of-of firting?"
Little woman, we won't go into
that. Call it an optical illusion or
what you will. We agreed that night
over the lake to let the matter rest"
81 did not" She turned a white, an
CRY face to his. Possibly you do not
realize the implied doubt in your
words. You are willing to condone,
but you have never, for one instant. be-
lieved yourself mistaken"
Rexell, staggered by the direct at
tack, was utterly at a loss as to what
to say.
Before he could rally his scattered
forces, Gertrude Allen and Jack An
drews had rounded the tent, believing
themselves alone in the white quiet.
In blissful security they bore down on
the sheltered nook that held tbs ham
mock
A little scream from Gertrude. Some
thing not exactly blessing from An
drews, and then-a most embarrassed
silence.
Rexell led off the laugh, with a
hearty second from Andrews.
After all. 1t isn't the first time. as
you happen to know. Rexell, don't
you remember turning the corner o.
the clubhouse veranda rather sudden
ly?"
1T was you, Gertrude?"
There was a world of relief In Janet g
exclamation.
YES" answered that young woman,
totally unabashed.