“Of course, of course!” said Chap, with a grand wave of his hand. “The captain must have his retainers; that is understood.” The panther was put into the small boat, and Adam and Pitman rowed ashore. There the dead beast, after having been viewed with much delight by the female Pitmans, was hung up to the limb of a tree and carefully skinned by the two men. When this job was finished Adam was glad to accept his friend’s offer of a bed, the three boys being, by this time, fast asleep on their boat. After breakfast, the next morning, Mr. Pitman asked Chap for his address, and informed him that after he had properly prepared the skin of the panther, he intended to send it to him. To this Chap demurred, saying that Mr. Pitman ought to keep the skin himself, and if he gave it to anybody, he ought to give it to some one of the party who had had so long and weary a watch for it, and not to the fellow who had gone to sleep and let the rest look out for the approach of the beast. But Mr. Pitman would listen to nothing of the kind, insisting that the one who shot the panther should have the skin, and Phil, Phœnix, and Adam agreeing that this was right, the matter was so settled. As soon as possible our party set sail, with hearty expressions of good will toward the Pitman family. The wind was fair, and, after a stop that night at a place where nothing memorable occurred, they came early the next afternoon in sight of Titusville. On the way much attention had been paid to the health and comfort of the little bears, and now that they were nearing the town, Adam gave the tiller to Phil, and began to comb the soft hair and to generally tidy up the little cubs. One of these animals had such a wise air that Phil named him Solomon, whereupon Chap declared that his little sister should be called the Queen of Sheba, giving a very broad sound to the final “a,” in imitation of the backwoods accent. “If there’s anybody in the town,” said Adam, “that wants ’em bad enough to pay well for ’em, I’ll let ’em have ’em; but if no such person turns up, I’ll lug the little creturs North as long as I’ve money enough to buy milk.” “Is this what that girl in the woods considered a big place?” exclaimed Chap, as they sailed up to the town. “What would she say if she saw the mighty metropolis of Boontown, not to mention New York, London, or Pekin?” Titusville was a settlement of about thirty or forty low wooden houses, none of them far from the river-front, and all seeming to cluster around and to depend upon an extensive one-story building, forming three sides of a square, and fronted by large and well-kept grounds, which stretched for two or three hundred feet to the river, where there was a pretty little wharf. This house was the hotel, and the only building of any size or pretension in the place. As they came up to the wharf, they saw sitting on the extreme end of the platform a small man, with sandy hair, short trousers, no stockings, and cowhide shoes.