A SAVAGE BEDFELLOW.

Thames Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2876, 4 May 1878, Page 4

A SAVAGE BEDFELLOW.

Jack Featherly lived in a log cabin at the, base, of.one .of the mountain Tanges of the Adirondacks. He had been brought up in the woods from infancy, and the rooks, trees, and flowing water were his lesson books, for in that desolate region schools were out of the question. He was the son of a guide who conducted hunters and pleasure parties over the lakes and through the woods of the Shattagee legion, and by the time he was 17 years of age the boy was able to act as a guide himself. His eyes were so keen that he could tell at a glance, by the traces upon the dry leaves, whether a bear, deer, or .panther had passed by. The forest was his home, and he could lie down miles away from home and sleep as sweetly upon his couch of moss or leaves as the best housed youngster on his more civilised bed. In the summer of 1877 he guided a party a distance of. forty miles to the first of the chain of mountain lakes, where his father waited for them with canoes. From that point they had no further , need of him, and the same afternoon he started on his return home.. He had passed over, ten miles of the, way when night came on, and taking his hatchet from his belt he, quickly put up a " lean-to." Perhaps the reader may not know what a lean-to means. When hunters have to pass the night in the woods, and do not care to sleep in the open air, they cut branches or small trees and lean them against a rock or large tree at such an angle as to leave a shelter beneath ; and upon the roof formed by these branches they throw moss or small boughs to exclude for a time the rain or dew. It did not take Jack long to build his shelter and when it was completed he sat down under it, and ate some cold meat and corn bread which he had in his haversack. When he had finished his supper he pulled a quantity of moss for a bed, spread it upon the floor of his rude tent, wrapped his blanket about him and lay down. The croaking of the frogs, the lay of the whip-poor-will, and the lapping of the river close at hand were familiar sounds, and quickly lulled him to sleep. His rifle, loaded and ready for use,, was at his side, and his knife in its sheath hang upon a short, broken branch above his head. Though he was but seventeen years old, Jack Featherly was ;as ] strong as most men, and quite able to take care of himself, for his courage was certainly equal to his strength. He slept for hours. The night grew;, chilly, and it was well he had wrapped his blanket close around him to keep out the damp air. It might have been 3 o'clock in the morning, just before the light came, when he was awakened by a strange feeling of uneasiness, and gradually became aware of the presence of some large soft body lying close to his own. He could hear the heavy respirations of an animal's breath, and even felt them on his neck. Whether the creature was ferocious or otherwise he could not

tell, but certainly some wild visitor was lying oloae to him and enjoying the friendly warmth of his body. Was Jack p Put yourself in his position p'" and tell me what yon think about it. I My opinion is, that brave as he was, he \ would hare been better pleased with ' a different bedfellow. Not that Jack

knew there was anything to fear from his strange neighbor, but the suspense was something more uncomfortable even than fear. Painfully still he lay without, moving hand or foot, for he could not tell what deadly assault the slightest alarm might provoke. But this inaction became too horrible. Human-nerves could not bear :it. Cautiously he reached out for his rifle; but his fingers closed upon it; inch by inch he dragged it toward him till the barrel lay across his breast and he could touch the lock. His thumb pressed the hammer, but even now he dared not cock it, for the click might •tattle his bedfellow and force a battle

before he was prepared. Sooner or later, however, it must come, and necessity compelled him to venture. Stiffening his muscles and drawing in his breath, ho thrust back the hammer of the lock, and the sharp click, dick, sounded fearfully distinct in the dead silence. The wild animal made a quick movement, but Jack lay like a stone, and in a moment his unknown enemy seemed asleep again. Would the morning never come? Jack dared not fire in the darkness, for if he missed his aim, and the creature proved indeed a beast of prey, there was no chance for him. With his finger upon the trigger, and his hand upon the lock ho waited in aching anxiety for the first light to show him. the outlines of his dreaded. companion. Minutes seemed hours. Never before in hit* life had the

boy passed such an hour. His mind was terribly active, and vivid memories of all he had ever done, and rqgrets for every misdemeanor, with wild thoughts of what the end this adventure might possibly be, peopled his vigil of danger till it became a nightmare. Slowly, very slowly, the darkness Tbroke away, and Jack, sickened with his long suspense, 7 cautiously turned his head. There,- close to him, stretched out in an attitude of repose, lay a full grown panther! Carefully and silently, the boy drew his rifle forward a little more. What if the rifle was not properly loaded! He raised his. right aim gradually until the muzzel was within an inch of the panther's ear. He pressed the trigger, and at the instant of discharge he was on his feet with his hunting-knife in his hand ready to fight for his life. But there was no need of the knife now. The ballet had crashed through the brain of the prostrate beast, killing him on the spot. Jack's danger was over; but even jnow whenever he tells the story, he says (he can feel the cold sweat. gather on his flesh as it did that terrible morning in the Adirondack woods when he lay in bed with the panther.—Anierican Paper.