bbons, fighting
for his life, with both hands buried in the soft, thick fur, strove
frantically to throttle his mighty assailant.

Had he been alone there could have been no doubt as to the issue of the
struggle--the panther must have done him to death; but the stunning
blows from Mr. Sutherland and the repeated stabs of the Indian's spear
soon began to tell.

They had not only weakened the brute's strength, but they turned his
attention from Donalblane to his other opponents, and, after a space of
time that seemed an eternity to the boy, but was in reality barely a
minute, the panther, giving a hideous growl, relaxed both teeth and
claws in order to prepare for a spring at Mr. Sutherland.

This gave the latter the opportunity for which he had been waiting. He
was an expert shot, and never had had more need of his skill than at
this moment. Quickly throwing his gun to his shoulder, and aiming full
at the panther's breast, he pulled the trigger.

Happily the musket did not miss fire, and the heavy charge sped
straight to its mark, going clean through the animal's heart. With one
last fiendish scream the fearful creature sprang straight up into the
air, and fell back a limp, lifeless mass of fur. Not waiting to look
at his quarry, Mr. Sutherland rushed to Donalblane, who lay senseless
on the sward, with the blood streaming from nearly a score of wounds.

"My poor boy," he exclaimed, as he took Donald's head upon his knees,
"surely that black brute has not killed you!" Then to the Indian, who
was wonderingly examining the panther, he called indignantly, "Leave
that thing alone, and get me some water--quick!"

When the Indian returned with the water Mr. Sutherland tenderly washed
the boy's wounds, which he was glad to find were none of them very
deep--those made by the teeth on the shoulder being the worst--and did
his best to bind them up with handkerchiefs and what other linen was
available, the Indian proving a very helpful assistant. Before it was
quite done Donalblane recovered consciousness, and at first was so
dazed that he had no idea as to what had happened.

"What's the matter?" he asked, starting to put his hand to his head,
and then dropping it because of the pain in his shoulder. "I'm verra
sore. Ah! I ken--I ken--that awfu' black thing. I fair thought it
wad kill me." And he groaned deeply, for his sufferings were keen.

"Not a bit of it, my boy," responded Mr. Sutherland cheerily, as he
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