the road. Fred cried out in new alarm, and the mules stopped dead--
for a moment. They were trembling and tossing their heads wildly. The
awful, blood-chilling scream was repeated, and there was the soft
thudding of cushioned paws in the bushes. Some beast had leaped down
from a tree-branch to the hard snow.

"A cat-o'-mountain!" yelled Fred Hatfield, and as he shouted, the
lithe cat sprang over the brush heap and landed in the road, right
beside the timber cart.

Once Ruth had been into the menagerie of a traveling circus that had
come to Darrowtown while her father was still alive. She had seen
there a panther, and the wicked, graceful, writhing body of the beast
had frightened her more than the bulk of the elephant or the roaring
of the lion. This great cat, crouching close to the snow, its tail
sweeping from side to side, all its muscles knotted for another
spring, struck Ruth dumb and helpless.

Fortunately her gloved hands were locked about the timber on which
she lay, for the next instant a third savage scream parted the
bewhiskered lips of the catamount and on the heels of the cry the
mules started at full gallop. The panther sprang into the air like a
rubber ball. Had the mules not started the beast must have landed
fairly upon the boy and the girl clinging to the reach of the timber
wagon.

But providentially Ruth Fielding and her companion escaped this
immediate catastrophe. The savage beast landed upon the wagon,
however--far out upon the end of the timber, beyond the rear wheels.
Mad with fright, the mules tore on along the wood road. There were