Part 26 (1/2)

”Don't worry too much, lad,” he said. ”Take my word on it, they'll turn up by morning, sure. You've said yourself they've been through putty tryin' times, in Africa and out West.”

On the way to the river John Barrow had brought down several rabbits and some birds, and these were hung up on the low branches of a nearby tree.

They proceeded to make themselves comfortable under this tree, cutting down some cedar branches for a flooring, and banking up some other branches and some snow to keep off the wind.

”I don't think I'll go to sleep,” said d.i.c.k. ”I'm going to keep the fire piled high, so that it will light up as it's doing now.”

”Then I'll turn in right away,” answered the guide. ”It's eight o'clock. You call me at two, and that will be givin' you a fair nap afore daybreak.” And so it was agreed.

It did not take John Barrow long to settle himself, and soon he was snoring as peacefully as though lying in his bed at home. Sitting down close to the fire, d.i.c.k gave himself up to his thoughts.

And what numerous thoughts they were--of home and of school, of his brothers, and of the Baxters and their other enemies, and of all that had happened since they had first started to go to Putnam Hall. And then he thought of the Lanings and of the Stanhopes, and lingered long over the mental picture of sweet Dora and of what she had last said to him.

”She's just an all-right girl,” he said to himself. ”Heaven bless her and keep her from any further trouble!”

When the fire showed signs of burning low he arose and piled on more brushwood. There was hardly enough at hand to suit him, and, ax in hand, he started back from the river, to cut more.

He was within fifteen feet of some dense bushes when of a sudden he came to a halt, as he saw a pair of gleaming eyes glaring at him. As soon as he noticed the eyes they disappeared.

”A wild animal,” he thought. ”Can it be a wolf?”

Retracing his steps to the fire, he caught up his gun and waited. But the animal did not appear, nor did d.i.c.k hear any sound save the murmur of the wind through the snow-clad trees.

The youth wondered if he ought to awaken the guide, but finally resolved to let John Barrow sleep. ”I ought to be able to take care of one wolf,”

he reasoned. ”I've taken care of worse than that in my time.”

Gun in hand, he advanced upon the bushes once more. He expected to see a wolf slink away at any moment, but no beast came to view, and, after walking completely around the growth, he laid down the gun and went to work vigorously with the ax.

Bush after bush was brought down in rapid succession, until in ten minutes d.i.c.k calculated he had cut sufficient to last the camp-fire for the rest of the night. Then he lowered the ax and caught up a large bush, to drag it close to the blaze.

As he turned around he met a sight that, for the instant, chilled him to the backbone. There, between the blaze and the tree under which John Barrow was sleeping, crouched a wildcat, a large, fierce-looking creature, with fire-shot eyes and a stubby tail which was moving noiselessly from side by side, as the creature prepared itself to make a leap.

”Gracious! he's going to attack Mr. Barrow!” thought d.i.c.k, but even as this flashed over his mind the wildcat made a leap into the tree, close to where hung the game the guide had brought down some hours before.

”Thank goodness, he's only after the meat,” thought d.i.c.k, and the chill he had experienced pa.s.sed away. Then, struck with a new idea, he leaped for his gun.

Several twigs of the tree were in the way of getting a good aim, and he had to circle around to the other side before he could get another good view of the wildcat. In the meantime the beast had grabbed up the wild turkey that was left, and clutching it tight in its mouth, started to drop to the snow-covered ground.

Bang! went the gun and the charge of heavy shot took the wildcat in the left flank, making a bad, but not a fatal, wound. The beast dropped the wild turkey and let out a fearful snarl of rage. Then it saw d.i.c.k, gave another snarl, and leaped toward the youth.

The gun was double-barreled, and once more d.i.c.k let drive. But he was not overly cool, and the charge merely nipped the beast in its left front leg. It continued to come on, and as it did so d.i.c.k commenced to retreat.

”Hi! what's up?” came from John Barrow, and throwing aside his blanket, he leaped to his feet.

”A wildcat!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed d.i.c.k. ”Quick! Shoot him!”

”By gos.h.!.+” muttered the guide, and blinking in the bright light of the fire, he reached for his rifle, which he had brought along in addition to his shotgun.

By this time the wildcat was close to d.i.c.k, and now, watching its opportunity, it leaped upon the youth, trying to bury its claws in d.i.c.k's shoulder.