hair's-breadth from the trail, would not allow him to increase or
retard his gait.

"If you think you can make me run, old fellow," he muttered, with
his gaze still fixed on the beast, "you are mistaken. We don't meet
wild animals in Kentucky that are able to drive us out of the woods.
You needn't fancy, either, that I am in any hurry to walk away from
you."

And, to show the contempt in which he held the beast, the youth at
that moment came to a full stop, turned about and faced him.




CHAPTER II

WHAT A RIFLE-SHOT DID


The moment the young Kentuckian assumed this attitude, he became
aware that the cougar had determined upon hostilities.

With a rasping snarl he buried his claws in the shaggy bark,
pressing his body still closer to the limb, and then shot downward
straight toward Jack, who was too vigilant to be caught unprepared.
Leaping backward a couple of steps, he brought his gun to his
shoulder, like a flash, and fired almost at the moment the animal
left his perch. There could be no miss under the circumstances, and
the "painter" received his death wound, as may be said, while in