The White Crystals: Being an Account of the Adventures of Two Boys

by Howard Roger Garis

  CHAPTER VIII

  FIGHTING A WILD-CAT

  For one fearful moment Roger felt a cold chill go creeping down hisspine, and he shivered in dread at the nameless thing which stoodgrowling there before him. He knew it must be some kind of a wild beast,but what he hardly dared think.

  "A bear!" he whispered, and he shrank closer against the tree. Then herecalled what his aunt had said when Mr. Kimball had joked about thedenizens of the forest. She said there were no bears.

  "Nothing worse than wild-cats," he remembered she had told him, and,though to the frightened boy this was terrible enough, he was glad toknow it was not a bear which he could dimly see the outline of.

  The thing, whatever it was, kept up its short, angry snarls, and Rogercould hear the sharp claws tearing at the bark of the fallen log. Hegazed at the two circles of greenish-red fire in a sort of fascination.

  Just then the whole forest seemed to be flooded with a soft light thatstole in among the trees and sifted down through the leaves. It was themoon that had risen high enough above the hills to give its illuminationto the scene. By the glowing beams Roger could make out the animalabout fifteen feet from him, crouching low on a fallen tree. It was abeast perhaps two feet long, with a tail that swished from side to side,and it had little short ears that seemed pointed toward him, to catchthe sound of any movement he might make. He could see the paws withwhich the wild-cat, for such he knew it must be, held its position onthe log, by digging the knife-like claws into the soft bark. He couldsee the little chips and slivers fly off, while the growls changed to ahalf-whining cry.

  For a moment the boy looked about in desperation, seeking which way toflee. Off to the left he seemed to observe a little larger openingbetween the trees than anywhere else. He sprang toward it with a bound.

  Ere he had gone a dozen steps, stumbling in the half darkness oversticks and stones, the wild-cat turned quickly, and with a light leapwas before him, waiting, waiting, waiting. The boy stopped short with ashudder. He was very much afraid. Though the beast was not large, andthough it did not impress him half as much as did the tigers and lionshe had seen in Central Park, yet there was something terrifying in thecalm way it faced him.

  It appeared to know there was nothing between itself and the defencelessboy, and that no help was at hand. Though the beast was not half as bigas Roger, he knew the sharp claws and sharper teeth would cause death,if once the animal got up courage enough to attack him. That this wasits intention the boy had no doubt, though he was sure the wild-cats tobe found in the mountains about Cardiff were more a danger and menace tochickens and lambs than to human beings. The brutes were usually toocowardly to attack man. But perhaps the night, the smallness of the boyand his apparent terror had made the cat devoid of fear. At any rate, itseemed to Roger to be ugly and bold enough to spring at him any minute.

  Foiled in his plan to escape, the boy returned to the log where he hadbeen sitting. This was close against a big tree, and he felt that, withhis back to this, he was, in some measure, protected; at least from anattack in the rear. As he retraced his steps the cat kept pace with him,until both boy and beast were in the same relative positions they hadfirst occupied.

  Roger now saw that it was to be a battle between himself and thewild-cat, and he nerved himself for the fight. Had he dared, he wouldhave turned and run, but he seemed to see the cat come bounding afterhim, with big leaps and jumps, and crouching for a final spring upon hisback. Then he recalled, with a shudder, what he had read of the terribletearing power of the claws of these animals. So there was but one thingto do with any hope of success. That was to stand and fight off thebeast as long as possible. But what weapons had he? He hurriedly felt inhis pockets and all he could find was a small knife, which he knew wouldbe of little use when it came to close quarters. A stick, a club, or astone would be of more service. Yes, that would be better; a club, soRoger stooped down, and while he kept his eyes fastened on the cat hegroped about on the ground with his hands to see what was there. He felthis fingers close over a stout cudgel, and he rose, grasping it firmly,and stood with his feet braced for the shock. He was less frightened nowthat he had some sort of a weapon, poor as it was, and he knew he couldmeet the attack on more even terms.

  And it was high time he had thus prepared, for the cat now crouchedlower than before on the log and its claws worked more quickly, as Rogercould see by the light of the moon, which had risen higher.

  He noticed the short ears pointed forward on the ugly head and theparted lips disclosed the sharp white teeth. There was a convulsivetremor of the lithe body, and then, from the opened mouth came a cry sodismal, so weird and terrifying to the boy that he shivered in fear, andfelt his heart go thumping away under his ribs. The next instant thewild-cat launched itself forward with a spring, straight at the boyishfigure that stood ready to meet it.

  With a quick motion Roger lifted the short, heavy club, and then, as hesaw the beast directly in front of him, he gave a half turn, so that theanimal would sail past to the left. At the same time he brought thestick down with all his force, aiming at the ugly head. He missed thisspot, but struck just behind it, as the brute passed him, and so closewas the cat that the claws in its nearest hind leg caught the lower partof the boy's coat and tore it as if a sharp knife had cut it. The brutelanded some five feet beyond Roger, letting out a mingled howl of painand rage.

  But the fight had only begun, and Roger knew if the wild thing returnedto the attack with the energy it had displayed at first he couldscarcely hope to beat it off again. However, the animal seemed disposedto practise a little caution now and to be a trifle wary about repeatingits jump. The boy turned partly around and saw the beast come to asudden stop. Then it swung about and, making a little circle, ranquickly and leaped lightly upon the fallen log, where it crouched, readyfor another spring.

  But now Roger seemed to feel the deadly fear leaving him, and he almostrejoiced in the thought of the battle that was to come, even though heknew it was likely to result badly for himself. He had passed throughthe first scrimmage and, like a soldier who has once been under fire, healmost wished for another skirmish in the struggle.

  He watched the animal with sharp eyes and was glad to find the lightincreasing, as the moon rose more above the trees, though the leavesthrough which the beams came made uncertain shadows. Then the boydetected some movement on the part of the beast and saw that the cat,instead of crouching for another spring, had crawled out on the logtoward the end that was in deepest gloom.

  "I wonder what he's up to now?" said Roger, softly.

  He could hear the brute leap on the soft wood-carpet of moss and driedleaves, and then the grayish body seemed to fade away. But Roger knewthe animal had not left him. It was trying to sneak up behind him, so asto leap on his back, he felt, and the boy turned to face in thatdirection. As he did so he heard a noise near the log where the cat hadjust been crouching, and he turned quickly to catch a glimpse of thelong slender form passing rapidly by in the semi-darkness. For a momentRoger was puzzled, and then it came to him like a flash. The beast wasracing about him in a circle!

  He did not know what to do, and while he hesitated sorely alarmed, withthe fear tugging at his heart again, the cat passed in front of him oncemore.

  Only this time the animal was farther from the log and nearer to theboy. Roger knew that the brute would narrow the circles until it wasclose enough to spring at him, and, under these circumstances, it wasimpossible to tell from which point the dangerous leap might come.Surely the boy was in grave danger now, and he felt it keenly. He backedup close against the tree, but this was scarcely any protection, as thetrunk was not large enough. Yet he dared not leave it to seek another.

  The cat continued to run about him in ever smaller curves. Roger raisedhis club and waited in an agony of suspense--waited to see the tensebody come sailing toward him--waited to feel the sharp claws and cruelteeth.

  Up to this moment he had held the club in one hand, but, thinking to useit with great
er force, he now took hold with both right and left. As hedid so, he noticed that in his left hand he still held his knife. He wasabout to cast it from him, not wanting to risk putting it in his pocket,when his fingers touched something that seemed to be caught in theslot-like opening of the handle where the blades went. The knife was atwo-bladed one, but the smaller bit of steel had been broken off, and,where this should have fitted Roger was conscious that something hadlodged in the handle. He hurriedly felt of it.

  It was a match!

  How his heart thrilled. Here was a means of safety. Wild animals fear ablaze. With this match which he had found so unexpectedly he couldkindle a fire.

  Now he had a chance of holding the wild-cat at bay until morning. Withhis feet he scraped together some dry leaves into a little heap. Then,watching until the animal had once more passed between him and the log,he stooped over.

  But, after all, there was only a slim chance in his favor. The matchmight be a burned one, it might miss fire, or go out before he had anopportunity to kindle the leaves, or the leaves themselves might be toodamp to burn. All these thoughts came to him on the instant. But therewas no time to lose. He struck the match on the leg of his trousers. Itsputtered, fused, and flared brightly. Then it almost died away, andRoger's heart grew like lead. A little wind sprang up and threatened toextinguish the tiny flame. But though it almost left the wood it did notblow off altogether, and once again it burned strongly.

  Roger leaned over toward the pile of debris. He held the match to it.Some of the dried foliage hissed and smoked, for it was damp. But alittle wisp of dried grass caught. This blazed up with a crackle. Theflames communicated to the leaves, which soon began to ignite, thoughnot brightly, and with more smoke than fire. How anxiously did the boywatch them, for it meant safety, if not life, to him. His heart seemedalmost to be suffocating him with its beating. Then the dried stuffcaught the flames well and burned with a spurt of fire and sparks.

  The next instant there was a rush from behind Roger. He half turned androse from his stooping position over the blaze. There came whizzingthrough the air the body of the beast, as if shot from a catapult.

  Its forepaws struck the boy on the shoulders, and he could feel, for ahalf second, the prick of the sharp claws through his coat. The force ofthe leap threw him forward, and though he tried to save himself, thoughhe bravely endeavored to strike the beast with his club, he felt himselfsinking beneath the weight of the cat. He hit the ground withconsiderable force, close to the fire, so near, indeed, that the flames,which had increased, felt hot on his face.

  "Its forepaws struck the boy on the shoulders" ]

  Then there was a howl and a yelp of pain and surprise from the brute,followed by a roar. Roger felt the cruel claws sinking deeper into hisflesh. He screamed in agony, and then to his great wonderment he noted asudden ceasing of the weight that was pressing him down. The claws nolonger stuck into him, and the cat leaped from his back. Like a flashthe boy rolled over, to get away from the fire which had spread and wasscorching him.

  Then he ventured to rise to his knees. He saw the wild-cat sneaking offin the darkness. The burning leaves had served their purpose andfrightened the animal away.

  While the boy stood there, his heart palpitating with fright, hesuddenly saw a bright streak, like a sliver of flame, shoot through thetrees in front of him. Accompanying it there was the sharp report of arifle, followed by a wild howl of agony. By the combined light of thefire and the moon Roger saw the cat leap high in the air.

  There was a crackle of broken tree limbs, as the beast fell back. Thensomething else stirred in the woods, and into the circle of the blazestalked a tall dark man whose face exhibited the features of an Indian,and who, after a glance at the boy, uttered one word:

  "Sagoola!"