“I am in earnest,” said Glenn; “I do not wish to annoy William, or to meet Roughgrove and Mary until their domestic arrangements are all completed.”

“That’s strange,” said Joe.

“What’s strange?” asked Glenn, quickly.

“Why, your not wanting to meet Miss Mary.  I say it is most mysteriously strange,” replied Joe.

“Say nothing more about it, and think less,” said Glenn, striding in advance, while a smile played upon his lip.

“But I can’t help dreaming about it—­and my dreams all come true,” said Joe.

“What have you been dreaming—­but never mind—­bring out the guns,” said Glenn, pausing at the gate of the inclosure, and not venturing to hear Joe recite the dream about himself and Mary.

When possessed of the necessary implements, they set out towards the groves that bordered the prairie, among which were several lakes of clear water, not more than fifty or sixty paces in diameter, where the various wild fowl, as well as the otter and the muskrat, usually abounded.  Our hero had previously anticipated some sport of this nature, and constructed blinds on the verge of the lakes, and cut paths through the clustering bushes to reach them stealthily.  The lake they now approached was bounded on one side by the green meadow-like prairie, and fringed on the other by hazel thickets, with an occasional towering elm that had survived the autumnal fires.

The morning breeze had subsided, and a delightful calm prevailed.  A thousand wild flowers, comprising every hue, filled the air with delicious fragrance, while no sound was heard but the melody of happy birds.

“I think I see a duck!” whispered Joe, as they moved slowly along the path in a stooping posture.

“Where?” asked Glenn, as they crept softly to the blind and cast their eyes over the clear unruffled water.

“I thought I saw one on the muskrat house; but he must have gone to the other side,” responded Joe, now looking in vain for it, and closely scanning the little hillocks that had been thrown up in the lake by the muskrats.

“You must have been mistaken,” said Glenn; “suppose we go to the other lakes.”

“No, I wasn’t mistaken—­I’d swear to it—­be quiet and keep a bright look-out, and we’ll see him again in a minute or two,” replied Joe, who stood in an attitude of readiness to fire at an instant’s warning.

“What is that?” asked Glenn, just then actually observing a small brown object moving behind the hillock.

“Wait till I see a little more of it,” said Joe, with his finger on the trigger.

“Don’t fire, Joe! its a man’s cap!” exclaimed Glenn, detecting under the dark brim the large staring eyes of a human being, apparently evincing a sense of imminent peril; and the next moment the muzzle of a gun pointing above their heads came in view.

“Dod rot it, look up that tree!”

The smile that began to play on our hero’s features on recognizing the voice of Sneak was quickly dispelled and succeeded by horror when he cast his eyes upward and beheld an enormous panther, stooping, and on the eve of springing upon him!