Tom and Ned Manning lived upon a farm in Northern Vermont. The Manning home was in a beautiful valley, and all about, as far as the eye could see, ranged the Green Mountains; the range which towered over this valley was called Cushman.  
The boys were quite elated one day when their father told them he would have to send them over the mountain to a far-off lumber camp, upon a very important errand. This meant a two days' holiday for them, no school, and plenty of adventure in the woods.
 
"We'll start early," called Tom to his brother, already splitting his next morning's wood. "And if we have good luck, we can reach camp early in the afternoon. Snow-shoeing will be dandy, and say, we can just about ski down on the crusts, going down."
 
"That's so; it's going to be a bully trip," replied Ned, "and mother's sure to put us up a big feed. Say, somehow mother doesn't like the idea of us two going alone over the mountain. Guess it's because the Eatons have been losing their sheep; and now the Strongs have lost a young calf, some think there's something big and wild around loose on the mountain somewhere—a panther, or something like that."
 
"Joe Strong said their calf never strayed away," replied Tom, "but father thinks it did. He thinks dogs got the sheep anyway, and he says nowadays there isn't anything big enough on the mountains to carry off such a big creature as a calf—hasn't been, for years. Anyhow, I'm not a coward. Say, let's ask for grandfather's gun to take with us," suggested Ned.
 
The boys went to bed early that night, so as to get started by sunrise. The morning was keen, cold and sparkly, and the sun shone out upon the snow crusts as it came peeping over the pointed spruces on the summit of the mountain, and made them sparkle as if sprinkled with trillions of diamonds. They stowed away the ample lunch which their mother had put up, and Tom shouldered the old gun, while Ned carried the gum pole. They had decided to halt at a certain grove of giant spruces, half-way up Cushman, which they meant to visit for gum. The pole was long enough to reach into a tall tree, at the end was a sharp knife, and just beneath this a small cup, so that when the gum was chipped off, instead of falling down and being lost beneath among the pine needles, it dropped right into the cup.
 
Soon the boys left the steep hilly pastures, the foot-hills of the mountains, behind them, and began climbing the side of old Cushman.
 
"Look ahead, Ned; we're right in range of some dandy old spruces," called back Tom, who forged on ahead with the gun. "See, just beyond that ledge up there, we'll halt and get our gum, then we can soon climb up top and have our lunch. It won't take us long to go down. Come on; we must have that gum; it'll be good picking."
 
"Say, guess that ledge ahead must be Vulture Cliff; looks as if we're kind of off the main trail. We never strike off quite so far east as this, do we?" asked Ned, halting to look up at the great black, snow-capped crag which towered above them, jutting far out over the valley. They halted just below, and visited some giant spruces which, to their joy, yielded such a fine harvest of gum that they hated to leave the grove.
 
"We got to be making tracks now, I guess, Ned. Come on."
 
Just then Ned chipped off a splendid lump of amber gum from his tree, and still higher up he saw several large nuggets clinging temptingly to the brown spruce trunk. As prime gum would readily fetch a dollar a pound, these Vermont boys, to whom pocket money was rare, were reluctant to leave it behind.
 
Tom insisted upon their going on. "We've got to go on right off, Ned. But say, we'll come up on purpose some time when we don't have to go over the mountain."
 
Soon they were directly beneath the grim shadow of Vulture Cliff; it would be a stiff climb to go around it, and this they found they must do to reach the summit of the mountain. They had halted a second to get breath, when Tom spied a queer-looking object lying just beneath the crag upon the snow, and went to investigate.
 
"What is it?" called down Ned curiously.
 
"Come on down and see!" shouted back Tom, and soon the two boys were staring at their find—a great bone, the knuckle joint of a cow, having the hoof still attached. The bone had been gnawed, but was still fresh.
 
"Great Scott! What do you think of that?" exclaimed Tom excitedly. "It's surely some young creature's hoof, and whatever was gnawing it surely dropped it down from the ledge above, I believe." The boys had sudden misgivings. What could it have been?
 
"Say, Tom, it must have been something big and fierce and hungry to carry off a big bone like that. Perhaps the bone belonged to that heifer that was lost," suggested Ned.
 
"Might have," commented Tom, taking in the situation, which suggested to him the idea of getting away from the lonely spot as soon as possible. Besides, it was evident that much time had already been taken up with their gumming, more than they had meant to take, and now, to their dismay, they discovered suddenly that the sun had disappeared; great clouds were swiftly gathering about them, while down below in the valley, already the snow whirled thickly. A swift storm had arisen, as is often the case in these mountains. It had been brooding, but the boys had not noticed it. Already the giant spruces rocked and tossed far above, as the biting wind whined through their tops. The boys realised their best plan now was to make for the nearest shelter, or they were liable to be overtaken by a blizzard on the mountains, and so lose their way. Swifter and faster swirled the snow; it shut them off completely from everything, blinding them and stinging their faces like fine needles. Nothing but vapour and clouds all about, and they were off the main trail. They forged on ahead, climbing bravely up and up, sliding back at each step, but clinging to small spruces to keep from slipping.
 
 THE PANTHER CROUCHED AT THE FOOT OF THE LADDER, MAKING UP ITS MIND TO CLIMB. 
THE PANTHER CROUCHED AT THE FOOT OF THE LADDER, ...
MAKING UP ITS MIND TO CLIMB.
"Do you know where we are, Tom?" called Ned, trying to keep up with his elder brother, slipping over rocks, plunging down into deep gullies and over great fallen spruces.
 
"Not sure," called back Tom, above the howling gale. "We can't begin to get down the mountain, though, to-night. Look ahead; it's almost dark now. I hope we can strike the old mountain house, that is, if it isn't blown down. We'll try; come on." This old mountain house had originally been built for a cattle shelter, to protect the stock which ranged across the clearings in autumn. A desolate, barn-like structure upon the summit of Cushman which the fierce storms had done their best to demolish.
 
"I see it," called back Tom. "Look! It's right ahead—a big black thing; it's the mountain house all right. Brace up; we've got to get inside. We're............