Nothing, sir, since yesterday morning. Here Sambo, (addressing the black,) said Webb, get this boy something to eat. That I will, in right quick time, too, replied the black. If dat dere little kid eat as fast as he run, he git on de outside of a bear in no time. Golly, Massa, he jump twenty—thirty—forty feet in no time. He took me for de debble. O golly! golly! I wonder if I look like his satanic majesty? I suppose so; ha! ha! ha! Well, come dis way, buck; I’ll stuff dat skin of yours so full dat it bust; Golly, no dinner, no supper, no breakfast. I kinder guess dat his belly feels kinder lank. Stop that jargon, said Webb. The boy can’t live on nigger talk. Take him to the kitchen. Yes, Massa, I’ll take him to the kitchen, in right quick time, and show him to de cook. Come along buck. That ain’t his name, said Webb. Call him Walter. Come along den Water dis way. Dis darkey stuff your skin like a Christmas turkey. Come den, quick, quick come. Sambo lead the way, and Walter followed. After going about a mile, they came to a small flat in a hollow, near which was a spring of cool water. Near the spring was a large log house. Sambo conducted Walter into the house, and spread before him venison and corn bread, which he devoured with an appetite. Then they returned to the surveying party. Now, said Webb, can you find the way back to where you shot the panther? Oh yes, replied the boy. It is just down the hill there, can’t you hear the water roar? The whole party now started, and in a few minutes was at the scene of the encounter. There laid the panther, the largest of his species. Webb set the men at work to take off his hide, while he and Walter went to see the destruction caused by the water-spout the day before. Not a vestige of either house was to be seen. The beaver dam was dry, the cleared land was washed and gone down the stream. A cat, and a cat only, was left to tell the tale. On a tree, standing on a small island formed by the washout of the day before, lay a large white cat. The sight of this cat brought to Walter recollections of the great loss he had sustained, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Was that your cat? remarked Webb. Yes, sobbingly replied Walter. That is my Amy. Kit! kit! kit! Come here. The cat heard and recognized the voice, and a moment later, was in Walter’s arms. He fondled her and talked to her in such a way that Webb was convinced that there was something besides the cat that affected him. Never mind, my boy, you may take the cat with you to the camp and keep it for a playmate. I suppose that this was the only thing you had to love in your wilderness home? No, replied Walter. I had another playmate that I loved, and the cat is named after her. Yes, Amy Powers was just as pretty, good and kind as this kitten. And then he sobbed as if his heart was broke. I think, said Webb, that as young as you are, that Cupid has shot an arrow that has lodged where you will never get rid of it.