“The thing is dead!” he cried, “and I’m not going to lose it. It’ll sink again before you know it. There’s its tail close to you. Can’t you take hold of it?” Phœnix hesitated. To take hold of the tail of a wild beast which a minute before had been full of angry life, seemed to him a risky piece of business. The animal might be merely stunned, and, reviving, might object to have its tail pulled. Still, Phœnix was as loath as Chap to lose the panther, and as the body seemed about to sink again he reached out and seized the floating tail. Chap was so excited that he would have gladly clutched the panther by the back of the neck, but it was just a little out of his reach. Phœnix pulled the tail toward him, and Chap sprang to assist. “It’s dead! it’s dead!” yelled Chap, as the two boys pulled steadily at the tail, and the motionless body of the panther was drawn close to the boat. When Phil and the two men heard Chap cry that the panther was dead, they were as much amazed as relieved. They had not supposed the shot they had heard could have killed the beast. They were now anxious to get to the spot as quickly as possible, and see what had really happened. Pitman ran into the house, and came back with the oars, and followed by his wife and daughters, who, now that they heard the panther was dead, were perfectly willing to come out of doors, and stood on the beach while Mr. Pitman, Adam, and Phil jumped into the boat, and rapidly rowed to The Rolling Stone. When they reached her side, they found Phœnix and Chap each having hold of one of the hind legs of the panther, and pulling it into the boat. A lantern was lighted, and the beast carefully examined. It was a handsome, full-grown panther, as big a one, Mr. Pitman said, as he had ever seen. When the manner of the killing had been fully explained, and it had been found that the panther had been struck in the leg by one rifle ball, although of course, it could not be determined from whose rifle it came. Chap stood up and leaned against the cabin, the light of the lantern shining full upon his manly form. “Gentlemen,” said he, affecting a portly grandeur, while his eyes twinkled good-humoredly, “if you want to know how to kill a panther, or any other beast, come to me, and I’ll tell you how to do it. It’s all nonsense to double yourself up for hours behind a prickly palmetto bush, and sit there till your back aches, and wishing you had never heard of the thing, and were comfortable in bed. You might just as well lie down and take a comfortable sleep, and then when the wild beast comes up to you, just wake up and poke your gun into his mouth, and blow his brains out. That is the easy and sensible way of doing the thing with all the modern improvements.” “All very fine,” laughed Phil, “if you have somebody to wake you up at the proper moment, and drive the panther to the place where you are snoozing.”