Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER XVII

  TREED BY A WILDCAT

  They made the best of it, laughing and joking, and the meal was finishedon some victuals that remained from the day before. Frank was inclinedto blame himself, and, after that, Fenn, because the latter had put thesoap powder into the cocoanut box, but the amateur cook's chums weregood-natured over his failure, and comforted him with the proverb"accidents will happen in the best of regulated camps."

  The weather the following day turned out unexpectedly warm, and, asBart, Fenn and Ned elected to remain in camp, and straighten it outsomewhat, besides cleaning their guns, and mending some torn clothes,Frank said:

  "Guess I'll go off, and try my luck, if you fellows don't mind. Maybe Ican bag something."

  "Going alone?" asked Bart, looking up from his rifle, which he had takenapart. "If you wait until after dinner I'll go along."

  "I don't mind going alone," was Frank's rejoinder, and this was true,for, however good a chum he might be to the other lads, he was rather anodd chap, and frequently went off on solitary strolls. His friends wereused to this, and did not mind.

  "Aren't you going to take a rifle?" asked Ned. "You might see some biggame."

  "Guess not. I'm after birds. You fellows have scared off all the deersand bears," and, with a light shotgun over his shoulder Frank set out.

  It was lonesome enough in the woods, after leaving the winter camp, tosuit almost any one who was fond of solitude, and Frank really rejoicedin the calm and quietness all about him. The only sound was theoccasional flutter of a bird in the branches, or the soft, slushingnoise made by snow toppling from the trees to the ground.

  Frank walked on, his eyes alert for a sign of any game that wouldrestock the camp larder, but, for a long time he saw nothing. He hadcovered about three miles, and was beginning to think that he would havehis trip in vain, when, as he went down into a little gully, where thesnow lay rather deeper than on the level, he heard a noise, and saw amovement in the underbrush.

  "There's something!" he exclaimed half aloud, and he swung his gunaround. "Now let's see what sort of a shot I am."

  He advanced cautiously, thinking he might flush a covey of birds. Butthe sound was not repeated, and, look as he did, Frank could seenothing. With ready gun, and eyes that gazed eagerly forward, he kepton, making as little noise as possible.

  Suddenly he heard a yelping bark, followed by a shrill cry of agony, andthere was a great commotion in a clump of bushes about a hundred feetdirectly in front of him. Some animal or animals were evidentlythreshing about in the underbrush.

  "A dog! It's a dog, and something has caught it!" exclaimed Frank."Maybe it's a bear! I wish I had my rifle!"

  He had no thought of turning back, even though he had but a lightshotgun. The commotion increased, the yelping and barking finally dyingout, to be succeeded by a low moan, and then there was a silence, andFrank could hear the crunching of bones.

  "Poor dead beast," he murmured. "Maybe I can get a pop at the othercreature; and if I get close enough, and put two charges of shot into itat short range, and in the right spot, I may kill it. I'm going to try,anyhow." He little knew the danger he was running, for he had had, asyet, no view of the creature upon which he was creeping.

  As he walked forward he stepped on a dead branch, concealed by thesnow, and it broke with his weight, a sharp snap sounding in the stillforest. Instantly the crunching of bones ceased, there was a slightmovement where the fight had taken place, and a savage growl resounded.

  "I'm in for it now," mused Frank. "I've got to see it through. I can'trun, but I don't like that growl."

  He stood still for a moment, hoping the beast would show itself. Then headvanced a few more steps.

  As he got to one side of the concealing bushes he saw a curious sight. Abig, lithe, tawny creature, with ears laid back, and with flashing eyes,was crouched down over some smaller animal, savagely regarding the boy.It had been rending and tearing the smaller creature, and, at a glanceFrank saw that it was a fox. It had been the whines and barking of thefox that he had heard, and the groans had come when death followed thestroke of the sharp claws of the wildcat, for it was that savage andtawny beast that now glared at Frank--a wildcat disturbed at its meal.

  Frank saw before him one of the tragedies of the forest. The fox hadbeen preying on a wild turkey, as was evidenced by the half-consumedcarcass, and the feathers scattered all about. Then along had come thewildcat, intent on a meal, had crept upon the feasting fox, had leapeddown from a tree, and, with the quickness of light, had given the deathstroke. Now Frank had come, the fourth factor in the woodland tragedy.

  For a moment the lad stood regarding the savage creature, whose blazingeyes never left his face. Then, as cautiously as he could, Frank broughthis gun to bear. Oh, how he wished he had his rifle now, for well heknew that more than a charge of small shot was needed to kill the bigcat.

  "But if I can give her both barrels at once, right in the eyes, maybe itwill do for her," he mused quickly.

  Once more came the menacing growl, and the cat crouched for a spring.From her jaws dripped foam and blood. Frank raised his gun, and tookquick aim. He pulled both triggers together, and the recoil nearly senthim over backwards. But he recovered his balance with an effort, andgazed through the smoke at the crouching creature.

  To his horror, instead of seeing her stretched out dead, or writhing inthe final struggle, the lad saw the big, tawny body bounding over thesnow toward him. On she came, growling and snarling, and Frank saw thathe had fired too high, and that with the small shot he had onlysucceeded in slightly wounding the wildcat on top of the head. Thecreature's eyes had escaped, and, now with the yellow orbs blazing withdeadly hate and anger, she leaped forward as though to serve the lad asshe had served the fox.

  "Can I get in another shot?" thought Frank. He "broke" his breach-loader,the empty shells flew out, and his hand sought his belt, to slip in twofresh cartridges.

  To his horror he found that they would not fit! He had brought out hissmaller gauge shotgun, and the cartridges in it were the only onesavailable. They had been fired. Those in his belt were too large. Andthe wildcat was bounding toward him!

  There was but one thing to do, and Frank did it. Wheeling quickly heraced for the nearest tree which would sustain him. Fortunately therewas one not far away. He managed to reach it well ahead of the wildcat,and began scrambling up. He dropped his gun, since it was useless, andonly hindered him in his ascent. And he needed to make all the haste hecould, for he was hardly well up out of reach of the cruel claws, beforethe enraged brute bounded against the foot of the tree with a snarl.

  "She'll come up after me, as sure as fate!" thought Frank desperately."I've got to stop her in some way."

  The cat began climbing, an easy task with her long, sharp claws. Frankreached up, and saw, over his head a dead branch, that was big andsufficiently strong for his purpose. Working with feverish energy hebroke it off, and, when the big cat's head was close enough the younghunter brought the large end of the stick down on the skull with all hismight.

  With a howl of rage the big beast loosed its hold, and dropped back tothe earth. Then it looked upward, glaring at Frank as if wondering whatkind of a foe he was. But not daunted by the reception she met, theanimal once more began climbing up. Once more Frank raised the club, anddealt her another severe blow.

  "I hope I crack your skull!" he murmured.

  But alas for his hopes! The blow was well delivered, and sent the catback snarling and growling, but the force of it broke the branch offclose to the lad's hand, and the best part of his weapon fell to theground.

  "I'm done for, if she comes back at me!" he thought, but the cat had nosuch intentions, at present at least. The two blows on the head hadstunned her.

  Down at the foot of the tree crouched the brute, as if to announce thatshe would wait there until after dark, when she would have theadvantage.

  "I'm in for it now," mused the lad. "Treed by a wildcat, and nothingwith whic
h to shoot her. I _am_ in a pickle. The fellows won't knowwhere to look for me, and I can't fire any shots to call them. I _am_ upagainst it."

  He made himself as comfortable as possible on his small perch. At hisfirst movement the cat started up from her crouching position, as if tobe on the alert, but, seeing that her prey did not attempt to descend,she again stretched out, and began moving her paw over the place wherethe shot had torn her scalp.

  For half an hour Frank sat there, turning over the situation in hismind. He hoped the cat might tire of waiting, or go back to the fox shehad killed, but the animal showed no such intentions. Noon came, andthere was no change. Frank was tired and cramped, and he began to feelthe pangs of hunger. He moved about, seeking to be comfortable, andevery time he shifted his position the wildcat would growl, as ifresenting it.

  "Maybe when I don't come home to dinner the fellows will come lookingfor me," thought the treed lad. "They may be able to trace myfootsteps."

  But the afternoon began to wane, and no relief came. Frank wasdesperately weary, and was beginning to be alarmed. Not only was theprospect of a night in the tree most unpleasant, but he feared thatafter dark he could not watch to ward off the approach of the beast,whose ability to see after nightfall was better than was his. Then, too,he feared that his muscles might get numb, and that he would fall.

  "Well, I'll cut another club, and have it in readiness," Frank thought,and, as there were no more suitable dead limbs that would serve, hewhittled off with his knife, a tough green branch, that would answer asa club.

  This movement on his part was resented by the cat, who raised up andtried her fore paws on the tree trunk, tearing off bits of bark. But shedid not venture to climb. The memory of the blows on the head probablydeterred her.

  It began to get dusk. The cat seemed to know this, and began prowlingabout the foot of the tree, as if waiting until the veil of night hadcompletely fallen before making another attack. Now and then she growledand once howled dismally.

  "Maybe she's got a mate," thought Frank. "If two of them come at me----"He didn't like to dwell on that.

  The big cat curled herself at the foot of the tree, and looked up at theboy, not far above her head. Then, as Frank carefully shifted hisposition, to get rid of a cramp in his left leg, his fingers came incontact with his belt filled with cartridges.

  "Oh, if I had only brought the right size, or else had my other gun," hemused regretfully. "There'd soon be a different story to tell. As itis----"

  He paused, struck by a sudden thought.

  "By Jove! I'll try it!" he cried. "Wonder why I didn't think of itbefore."

  Taking out a cartridge, and bracing himself in the crotch of a limb soas to have both hands free, he dug out, with his knife, the wad thatheld the shot in place. He let the leaden pellets fall to the ground. Atthis the cat growled, but the lad paid no attention to her.

  Next he removed the wad over the powder, and poured the black grains outinto his hand. From his pocket he took a piece of paper, and, emptyingthe powder into this he laid it in his cap, which he managed to balanceon a limb in front of him. Working rapidly in the fast-gatheringdarkness he emptied several cartridges, until he had a sufficientquantity of powder in the paper.

  This he wadded up tightly, leaving one end twisted into a sort of fuse.Next he tied a string to his improvised bomb.

  With trembling fingers he lighted the fuse, and then, when it wasburning well, he began to lower the paper of powder toward the wildcat.The beast snarled as she saw the tiny flame approaching, but she did notwithdraw. Rather she reared on her hind feet, and was about to strike atthe little tongue of fire.

  This was better than Frank hoped for. An instant later there was a bigpuff of flame, and a dull report. The powder in the paper had explodedalmost in the face of the wildcat.

  With a scream of rage and pain the creature dropped to all fours, andbegan clawing the dirt and snow. The fire had burned her severely, andshe was wild with pain.

  "Good!" exulted Frank. "I wish I had another!" He peered down at thesnarling cat, and began to open more cartridges. But it was too dark tosee to work, and he had to stop, for he spilled the powder.

  Suddenly, above the yelps and growls of the brute, the lad in the treeheard a hail far off in the woods. He listened a moment, and thenshouted:

  "Here I am, fellows. Over here! I'm treed by a wildcat! Look out!"

  "We're coming," shouted Bart's voice. "Where are you?"

  Frank rapidly twisted some paper together, lighted it, and waved theimprovised torch above his head. He hardly dared descend yet. A shouttold him that his light had been seen. Then, off through the woods, hesaw the flicker of a lantern.

  "Come up easy," he cautioned. "The brute is still here, though I burnedher some."

  He dropped the blazing paper to the ground. It flared up, and the cat,with a snarl, sprang away.

  An instant later a shot rang out, and the beast turned a somersault,falling over backward--dead. Bart had seen the tawny body in the gleamfrom the burning paper, and had fired in the nick of time.

  "You can come down now, Frank," he cried, as he and the other chumsrushed up to where the wildcat was still twitching in death.