Although the trees were rather thick, the moonlight came in on the eastern slope sufficiently to make the way clear. It was different when Nick began to descend upon the other side. That slope was in shadow, for the moon was not high enough to light it, and more than once he found it difficult to keep on the path. Once he thought he had lost it, and he was thinking that it would make him feel rather foolish to get lost at night in these woods. “Better have kept to the road,” he muttered, standing still. There was a very steep descent just before him. He could see hardly anything, but he felt that the ground was dipping sharply. At the left there was a ridge of bare rock, and it seemed that the trail led along the underside of it. “This must be right,” he argued to himself. “By daylight a horse would get down here easily enough. It’s the right general direction, anyway, and I’ll chance it.” Putting his hands on the bare rock at his left to steady himself, he went slowly down. It was not a high ledge, and he had come, as he thought, about to the bottom, when there was a slight noise behind and almost overhead that startled him. His revolver was in his hand instantly. There was a blinding flash not ten feet in front of him and a deafening report. Swish! went a bullet past his face. Then there was a blood-curdling scream in the air above, and the detective fell flat under a heavy body. CHAPTER XIII. AN ARREST. Nick’s breath was knocked out of him, but he was not stunned. He knew partly what had happened. It was a wild beast that had borne him to the ground. Kerr’s remarks about the “panther scare” flashed upon his memory. Evidently, this beast had sprung upon him from the top of the ledge. He could feel the great limbs quivering, and one of the claws scratched his hand. All this was in a quarter of a second. In the next second, Nick had exerted all his giant strength, and rolled the beast over. He got upon his knees and fired his revolver three times in rapid succession at the huge carcass that he could feel but not see in front of him. Then a rough, surprised voice interrupted him. “Geewhilikins! how many of ’em be ye, anyway?” “Only one, stranger,” replied Nick, getting to his feet. “Gosh! I thought it mought be a regiment by the way ye fired. Got a double-quick action repeater, ain’t ye?” Nick did not reply at once. The beast was still clawing the ground frantically, and he was not sure that another dose of lead was not necessary. Then a little flame glowed in the darkness near by. The man who had spoken to him had struck a match. He held it first over the dying panther, for such it was, and then remarked, in a satisfied tone: “Done for. Four times dead, I reckon.” Then he took a step forward and held the match close to Nick’s face. The men looked at each other in silence for a moment.