Accordingly, the fugitive remained as motionless as a statue, his eyes fixed upon the dreaded brute, ready to make for his gun the instant the cougar showed any sign of making for him.
The animal, known in some parts of the country as the panther, or "painter," remained equally motionless.

It looked precisely as if he suspected that something was in the wind and had slipped up to this point to listen for some evidence of what it was.

Fred, who had heard fabulous stories of the "smelling" powers of all wild animals, feared that the cougar would scent him out, but he showed no evidence of his ability to do so.
After remaining stationary a minute or two, he moved forward a couple of steps, and then paused as before.

The lad was fearful that this was an indication that he had detected his presence in the tree and was about to make his leap; but, preliminary to doing so, all such animals squat upon their haunches, and pick out a perch at which to aim.

This he had not done, and the boy waited for it before changing his own position.
The head of the cougar was close to the trunk of the tree, and he had maintained the attitude hut a few seconds when he started forward again and continued until he vanished from view.
"I hope he is gone," was the wish that came to Fred, as he peered through the leaves, in his effort to catch a glimpse of him.
But the intervening leaves prevented, and he saw him no more.
He remained where he was for some time, on the look-out for the beast, but finally climbed back to his former place, where his gun was within reach, and where he disposed of himself as comfortably as possible.
In less than ten minutes thereafter, the whole pack of wolves were back again.