The panther raised his head, then sprang up a large tree and ensconced himself on a fork, while the valorous Skookum reared against the trunk, threatening loudly to come up and tear him to pieces.
This was a rare find and a noble chance to conserve their stock of deer, so the hunters went around the tree seeking for a fair shot.

But every point of view had some serious obstacle.

It seemed as though the branches had been told off to guard the panther's vitals, for a big one always stood in the bullet's way.
After vainly going around, Quonab said to Rolf: "Hit him with something, so he'll move." Rolf always was a good shot with stones, but he found none to throw.
Near where they stood, however, was an unfreezing spring, and the soggy snow on it was easily packed into a hard, heavy snowball.

Rolf threw it straight, swift, and by good luck it hit the panther square on the nose and startled him so that he sprang right out of the tree and flopped into the snow.
Skookum was on him at once, but got a slap on the ear that changed his music, and the panther bounded away out of sight with the valiant Skookum ten feet behind, whooping and yelling like mad.
It was annoyance rather than fear that made that panther take to a low tree while Skookum boxed the compass, and made a beaten dog path all around him.

The hunters approached very carefully now, making little sound and keeping out of sight.