Part 35 (1/2)

”Something has scared them,” put in Roger. ”Keep your guns ready for a shot. It may be a bear!”

”No such luck!” declared Phil. Nevertheless, he swung his shotgun into position for firing, and his chums did likewise.

As the boys entered the opening where the horses were tied, Dave caught sight of what was causing the disturbance. Out on the branch of a tree, directly over the animals, was a chunky and powerful looking wildcat, commonly called in that section of the country a bobcat. Its eyes were gleaming wickedly, its teeth were exposed, and it acted as if ready to leap at the throat of one of the horses.

”Look!” cried Dave, and then, as quickly as he could, he leveled his shotgun, took aim, and fired. The report of the firearm was followed by a blood-curdling cry from the wildcat, and down from the tree limb it tumbled, to roll over and over on the ground between the horses.

”Oh, what a savage beast!” gasped Phil, and for the instant he was so taken aback that he did not know what to do.

”He'll drive the horses crazy!” shouted Roger. ”Oh, if I could only get a shot at him!”

What the senator's son said about the horses was true. The wildcat had been badly, but not mortally, wounded, and now it was rolling and twisting on the ground, sending the dirt and leaves flying in all directions. The steeds were in a panic, and leaped and plunged hither and thither, doing their best to break away.

”I should have waited until we all had the chance to shoot,” said Dave.

”If I can catch my horse----”

He got no further, for just then Roger, seeing a chance, rushed in between two of the steeds and pulled both triggers of his shotgun in quick succession. His aim was true, and, hit in the side, the wildcat rolled over and then started to crawl back into some bushes.

”He is going!” shouted Dave.

”I must have a shot!” put in Phil, recovering somewhat, and now he blazed away. When the smoke rolled off, the boys saw that the wildcat had disappeared.

”Where is he?”

”He went into yonder bushes!”

”Is he dead, do you think?”

”I don't know. Be careful, or he may leap out at us.”

Such were some of the remarks made as the three boys reloaded, in the meantime keeping their eyes on the spot where the wildcat had last been seen. The horses were still plunging, but gradually they quieted down.

”I am going to see if the wildcat is really dead,” said Dave, boldly.

”Even if he's alive, I don't think there is much fight left in him.”

”You be careful!” warned Phil. ”A wounded beast is always extra savage.

He may fly at your throat, and then it will be all up with you.”

”I guess we plugged him pretty well,” said Roger.

With great caution Dave approached the bushes into which the wildcat had disappeared, and rather gingerly his chums followed him. They could see a trail of blood, which led to the bottom of a hollow between some rocks. Here they beheld the wildcat, stretched out on its side.

”Dead as a stone!” announced Dave, after a brief examination.

”Are you sure?” questioned Phil. ”He may be shamming--some wild beasts do, you know.”

”No, he's dead,--you can see for yourself.”