Mrs. Bob: A Novel — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE OLD STORY REVERSED. 9 ‘‘T’ve been indulging in a dream, you know—what if, in wandering about here, I suddenly hear a screain —a cry of distress, and in a woman’s voice? You bet Bob Pemberton flies to the rescue like a chevalier of old, on wings of swiftness—bursts irito a glade, and discovers the fair maiden on her knees, facing a deadly rattlesnake, or perhaps a crouching tiger. Of course I raise my gun—where is it?—oh, yes, calmly reposing against yonder tree—I’m the crack shot of the Seventh Regiment when I’m at home, and it’s a metre bagatelle for me to send a bullet where it will do the most good, and rescue the lovely maiden. That makes me a hero, you see—never played such a role before—wonder what it feels like? When I’ve finished this weed Ill trot along and see if I can’t make headway. The prospect of spending the night here isn’t very pleasant, I declare.’? Bob Pemberton stretches himself, holding his cigar in one hand. ‘‘Great Scott!’ he exclaims, for the action brings out a deep, ominous growl. He immediately twists his head around to discover the cause of it, and finds no trouble in doing this. Not twelve feet away from him is the trunk of the fallen tree, and flattened out upon it he sees what appears to be a tremendous Maltese cat—the square head and wicked appearance of the animal tell Bob plainly enough that he need not go far to discover his first panther, since the beast has found him out, and is, apparently, ready to cover the distance between them. The spectacle is not a pleasant one, and poor Bob Gomicbookssco fl