Frank was satisfied, for he saw the beast kicking his last on the deck of the houseboat which he had boarded, and taken full possession of, in such a bold and unheard-of manner. Then, a couple of seconds later, the door of the cabin burst open, to allow Bluff to rush upon the deck, carrying his weapon; and evidently only wishing that some power would give the cat the balance of its nine lives, so that it might regain its feet, and make it necessary for him to pour in a volley at close quarters. But even as he arrived upon the scene it seemed to become still. “It’s dead, Frank!” cried Bluff, in what seemed to be a disappointed voice. “Glad to hear it,” returned the other, as he dropped his gun, and took to the paddle once more; for he knew that they must get the wretched fugitives of the flood out of the treetop before it separated from the houseboat. “Hand down the woman first, and then the children,” he said to the man, when he arrived at a place that seemed convenient for the transfer; “I’ll put them aboard the houseboat, and then come back for you.” By using great care, he managed to get them in the small dinghy, and paddled over to the larger craft. Those on board assisted them on deck, after which Frank, after handing up his rifle, to be rid of it, went back for the man and Jerry. When they too had been safely transferred, Frank insisted that they separate the tree from the _Pot Luck_, so that they could move along faster. Will was busy with his camera about this time, determined to get as much of the affair on the records as possible. Once the boat floated free from the slower moving tree, Frank set Jerry to work getting something to eat for the hungry fugitives, who had been made as comfortable as some blankets in the cabin could accomplish. The children had brightened up with the improved look of things. They watched Jerry working at the stove, and a smile of anticipation came over their childish faces as they had a scent of cooking bacon and boiling coffee. Meanwhile Frank and Bluff and Luther Snow were examining the dead panther. “Bigger than any we ever saw before; isn’t it, Frank?” asked Bluff, as he turned the beast over, to see where the fatal bullet had entered behind the foreleg, just as Frank had intended when he fired. “I never saw a larger, if you want my opinion, lads,” remarked Luther Snow; “and I certainly have shot a round dozen of the animals in my time.” “We must try and keep the pelt, Frank,” observed Will. “It will make a great addition to our collection; and as a mat, with the head on, it’d look fine.” Frank, upon asking the man about the misfortune that had befallen him, learned of the terrible nature of the flood that had taken the residents of the country up one of the Mississippi’s tributaries by surprise. Their house was washed away during the night; and with the coming of dawn they found themselves floating down the swollen river, and out upon the great Mississippi.