four panting and tired boys came to a halt in the midst of a dense forest on the sloping sides of a mountain. early that morning, sam bins had driven them as far as he could toward their destination.

besides weapons and fishing-tackle, each hunter had a pair of blankets—rubber and woolen—and a water-proof canvas bag which contained tin dishes, a pair of moccasins, a compass, match-safe, and plenty of rope and twine, besides nails. havens carried a lantern and small saw. all were provided with hatchets and hunting knives, and provisions were divided up among them.

dave brandon, in addition, carried a brand new paint box, and the official photographer his camera. everything unnecessary had been omitted, yet the outfits strapped to their backs were not light ones.

dave brandon threw himself wearily upon a flat rock.

"oh, but i am tired," he exclaimed. "this truck weighs a ton. where are we going to stop, jim?"

"i know a dugout that's just the thing for us," responded havens. "sanders and i used it for a while last year. a long time ago, 'surly joe' hung out there."

"'surly joe', that's a nice name," laughed bob. "a good disposition, i suppose, eh?"

"such a nice one that i hope we don't meet him. but there isn't a better hunter around these parts than joe tomlin."

"why, that's the old chap we saw at the hotel," put in dick travers. "remember, bob?"

"sure thing. don't wonder they call him 'surly joe.' he certainly looked sour enough."

"he's a good friend of 'big bill's,'" explained havens. "every once in a while joe gets to the village, but he and i don't gee together a bit."

"this climbing is tough work," drawled dave. "i ache all over. how far is that dugout, havens?"

"we ought to reach it before nightfall."

dave, who had arisen, sank back on the rock, with a gesture of dismay.

"and this is what we get for going after fur, fin and feather," he groaned.

in a short time, the march was resumed. the region about them was wild and rugged. the forest contained a great variety of trees; shrubbery, underbrush and tangled vines were so dense in places as to make progress difficult. boulders and rocks lay strewn about in profusion, and the boys found it necessary to rest frequently.

"should think there would be a lot of caves around here," panted bob.

"there are," replied havens, "and if you run across any, knock on the door before you stick your head inside."

"oh, we know," laughed dick; "bears and other beasts."

"that's right. if you keep your eyes open, you can see their tracks all around."

"just listen to the birds," observed dave. "doesn't their singing and chattering sound fine? hear that woodpecker tapping."

"working for his living, eh?" grinned dick.

"look—a jack rabbit," cried bob, suddenly. "i'll bet i could have knocked him over easy. see him? he jumped over that log, running like sixty."

"i see something prettier," said dave.

a bird, singing cheerily, had just darted across, a flaming spot of orange against the rich green hemlocks beyond.

"an oriole," announced the "poet." "a beautiful little bird, and a noisy one, too. listen to his chatter."

"if you fellows don't want to sleep out in the open to-night, you'd better be coming along," said havens, and dave, with a sigh, again struggled to his feet.

"listen!" dick stopped and held up his hand. "what's that noise?" he asked.

"the rapids," replied havens. "i thought we must be pretty close to them."

"when we get there, let's stop and have some grub," said dick. "wow! my back's 'most broken. always did hate to lug things."

"i'll sleep all day to-morrow," declared dave.

"if you do, i'll set a bear on you," laughed dick.

the noise of rushing water grew louder, and finally, after scrambling over a pile of rocks and forcing their way through a tangled thicket, they reached the bank.

before them was a dashing, tumbling stream, eddying and foaming past the grim-looking rocks, which for countless ages had disputed its passage in vain. dancing drops sparkled like silver in the sunshine, currents swirled and bubbled, as the ever-rushing torrent gurgled forth its musical lament.

"oh, ho, what a lovely sight," exclaimed dave brandon. "look at those trees bending over, the reflection in the water and that mass of pink dogwood."

"pretty enough, chubby," admitted dick, "but i'm thirsty as thunder."

"you can get a drink a bit further along," said havens. "we have to get across, anyway."

"get across?" echoed dick.

"sure thing. the dugout's on the other side."

"then i suppose i'll have the joy of helping to fish somebody out of the stream," said dave. "hello, did i hear anything?"

a low growl seemed to come from the opposite bank.

"what in the world is that?" cried dick, in a startled tone.

"i see it," exclaimed bob somers, excitedly. "some kind of an animal. look! it's on that limb. great cæsar! what a whopper!"

partially screened behind a mass of leaves, a long, tawny animal was crouching, with ears thrown back and glaring eyes. its long tail lashed from side to side, and its powerful, muscular body seemed to quiver with anger.

as if fascinated, the boys gazed at it for some instants without speaking. their nerves tingled.

"what is it?" asked bob, in a suppressed voice. "a panther?"

"yes, though most people out here call the beast a mountain lion, or painter," replied jim havens. "that is one of the biggest i ever saw."

"awful glad he's on the other side of the street," murmured dave. "not so sure, now, that i'm fond of hunting. say—doesn't he look fierce?"

"they won't bother you much if they're let alone, but corner 'em, and i'd 'most as soon have a grizzly in front of me. it's a quiet beast—doesn't screech much, though once in a while he'll let out a yell that makes you sit up and take notice."

"shall we risk a shot?" asked dick, eagerly.

"no, i think not," replied havens. "you might only wound him, and in case he managed to get across—well, sanders and i had a scrap with one last year, and i ain't anxious for another."

"look—he's off!" cried bob.

with a low growl, the panther dropped lightly to the ground and disappeared in a dense thicket.

"they're great fellows for staying in trees," went on havens, "and for springing down upon any animal that happens to pass. hard to see, too—the color is so much like the bark."

"well, i'm glad it's skipped," said dick. "hang it, if i'd only thought, i might have made a snap-shot."

"the trip is just begun," laughed havens. "get out your grub, fellows. cat or no cat, james is going to eat."

"maybe that ferocious beast is waiting for us on the other side of the creek," said dave.

"and possibly is ready for lunch, too," added bob.

the boys looked at the swirling water and slippery rocks, the dark, overhanging banks with here and there gnarled roots exposed by crumbling away of the earth, then paused to consider.

"i think it will not be necessary for us to cross just now," said dave, facetiously.

no one offered an objection, and the quartet thereupon found seats.

sandwiches, washed down with clear, cold water, refreshed them all.

on resuming the march, they kept as close as possible to the rapids. presently havens led the way out on a bank.

"what a magnificent view," exclaimed dave, pointing toward the opposite range of mountains.

"couldn't be finer, chubby," declared bob.

"this is where we cross the stream, fellows," put in havens. "get ready for your bath."

"i'm going first—here's a scheme," he added. "i'll tie a rope around my waist. you fellows hang on to the end, and if i slip i won't go ten miles without stopping."

"right you are, old man," said bob. "that water is pretty deep in places."

the necessary precaution having been attended to, havens carefully stepped upon a large, flat rock.

"slippery as the dickens," he said.

"why shouldn't it be?" observed the "poet." "it's been here for a million years, perhaps."

"don't get to dreaming, dave," laughed bob.

"chubby's the clumsiest chap i ever saw, yet he does everything right," observed dick, thoughtfully. "at times, i feel like splashing him."

dave laughed good-naturedly.

havens made his way carefully from rock to rock. out in the midst of the stream, with eddying currents and masses of foam on all sides, it looked bigger and more dangerous than when viewed from the bank. the main channel was too wide to jump, and the only means of crossing it was a series of small round boulders so smooth as to scarcely afford a footing.

his companions, who had followed part way, held the rope tightly and waited for him to fall in. it was a matter of some surprise when they found that this was not going to happen.

"hope that we are just as lucky," said dick, as he grasped the rope which havens had tied to a tree, and prepared to follow.

by the time that travers stood on the opposite bank bob and dave were well on their way across. these two worthies did not meet with any mishap, though the stout boy gracefully accepted all the aid that was proffered when it came to the final climb.

"i wonder if his catship is anywhere around," remarked dick travers.

"maybe," answered havens. "they have a way of skulking about. keep your eyes peeled."

the boys were soon winded again, but even weariness did not prevent them from enjoying the forest. gloomy and grand, it surrounded them on all sides. with heads bared to the whispering breeze, the boys lolled on the ground and looked at the patches of clear blue sky between the interlacing branches, and forgot, for the moment, whatever dangers might exist. each breath of air brought with it some woodland odor—of fragrant pine or dogwood and many other plants.

"grand," sighed dave, peering dreamily through half-closed eyelids.

"worth all our trouble," said bob. "but say, jim, will you be able to find that dugout?"

"i'd be a silly chump if i couldn't," answered havens. "tramped these mountains too many times to lose my bearings."

"but suppose some one is living there?"

"build a lean-to; or i know a cave where we might put up for a few days."

"rent high?" asked dick.

"no, but i wouldn't be surprised if it had a bear for a landlord."

fifteen minutes later, just as dave was about to declare his inability to go a step further, jim announced that the dugout was close at hand.

"thank goodness!" exclaimed the "poet," wearily.

but it was still some time before havens uttered a grunt of satisfaction, then said, "it's right over there, fellows—back of that clump of trees."

"hurrah!" shouted dick.

"me, too," sighed dave. "i'd holler like that if i wasn't so tired."

in a few moments, they saw a log structure built against a wall of rock.

"never was so glad to see anything in my life," declared bob somers. "it doesn't look big enough for the whole bunch, though, jim."

havens smiled. "don't you know that a dugout is a log cabin or some kind of a shack built in front of a cave?" he asked.

"good! this is a dandy place, eh, dave?" cried bob, enthusiastically. "imagine sitting out here, after a good day's sport, with a venison steak broiling over the fire!"

"i'll get indigestion, if you talk that way, bob somers," said dave, severely, as he threw his burden down on the turf.

"don't go rushing in, fellows," warned jim. "sometimes a varmint takes it into his ugly head to use it for a stopping place."

but impatient dick travers was already at the door, uttering a series of wild whoops.

"all right!" he sang out, as his form disappeared from view.

the dugout, though solidly built, showed the ravages of time. the door was missing and a tree, dislodged by some gale, had fallen across the roof, leaving a gaping hole.

but, in spite of these defects, the boys were delighted.

"we can fix it up in short order," declared bob.

"not to-day, thank you," said dave.

the light from a single window illuminated the interior of a spacious cave. several reminders of its former occupants, a rude table and chairs, were scattered around.

"don't see any piano," murmured dave brandon.

"fell over a precipice as they were bringing it up," laughed havens.

after a short rest, jim, who seemed to be the least tired, set about collecting fuel, and soon had a fire started. then outfits were unpacked, and dishes and provisions brought forth.

bob suddenly straightened up. "jim," he said, solemnly, "how about water?"

"just beyond that big cedar," havens indicated the direction, "you'll find a rivulet. don't go without your gun."

"oh, no," laughed the other; "i've been out in the woods before."

bob had no trouble in finding water, and when he returned preparations for supper were under way. havens and brandon attended to this duty, while dick travers and bob somers went off in search of cedar boughs.

armed with hatchets, they kept steadily at work, and although very tired, did not desist until a large quantity of the fragrant leaves had been collected. then dave helped drag them to the dugout. four beds were made in the cave, after which the hunters, well satisfied with the result of their labor, sat down to supper.

"what's on the bill of fare?" asked bob.

"sardines, bacon, crackers, cheese and coffee," said dave.

"not bad, for a starter. guess i can get away with my share all right."

"nothing like outdoor life to give a fellow an appetite," commented dick.

dusk soon gathered. the forest looked grim and sombre, and when night came it was pleasant to watch the twinkling stars overhead and to listen to the weird sounds which often filled the air.

havens piled a couple of logs on the fire and the dancing flames sent forth a cheerful glow.

finally dave brandon picked up a lantern and led the way into the dugout. when all were inside, he stretched a blanket across the door, then, following the example of the others, spread his rubber blanket over the fir brush. bob hung the lantern upon a board projecting near the hole in the roof.

"good-night, fellows," said jim.

"good-night," responded the others. then silence reigned.

dick travers' slumber was not refreshing. occasionally, he half opened his eyes. the interior of the cave, in the dim light, looked very strange. deep black shadows stretched up to the jagged roof, and, in places, some mineral sparkled brightly.

but it was something else that finally caught his attention, and caused him to sit bolt upright. a strange sound seemed to come from the roof of the log house.

dick slowly rose to his feet, and listened intently. he hesitated to awaken his soundly sleeping companions.

as the boy was about to steal forward, a sharp crash echoed throughout the cave with startling clearness. then followed a series of sounds which fairly made his hair stand on end.