LAST OF THE WILDCAT.
Harry knew that he had no easy task before him, yet he started out with
a brave heart, resolved to cover the distance to the camp as quickly as
possible.
Knowing how great was the force of the wind, he buttoned his overcoat
tightly about him and strapped his game-bag and gun to his person in
such a way that they could not be lost, no matter how many tumbles and
plunges in the immense snowdrifts were taken.
“If I move right along I ought to strike camp by seven or half-past,”
he murmured to himself, as he struck out for the creek. “Ugh! but this
is beastly!”
The first blast around the edge of the shelter nearly threw him flat on
his back, so strong was it. The hard snow was dashed into his face as
if it was sand thrown by a shovel in the hands of a laborer. He gasped
in spite of himself.
“It’s getting wilder instead of moderating,” he thought. “This must be
something like a Western blizzard. How bleak and desolate it looks on
all sides!”
Fortunately, Harry found a streak of land almost clear of snow, and
stretching away toward where the creek ran. Along this stretch he now
pursued his course, stopping only occasionally, to catch his breath and
prepare for the coming of an extra-heavy blast.
The snow was blinding, and it was a wonder that he did not become
turned around. But he kept on in a straight line from the cliff, and
this was bound, sooner or later, to bring him to the watercourse he was
seeking.
Presently the bared streak was passed, and now he was compelled to
force his way along through snow that was from two inches to two feet
deep. The deep places tired him not a little, and by the time the
vicinity of the creek was reached he could scarcely drag one foot after
the other.
“Thank fortune I am this far!” he exclaimed, half-aloud, as the trees
which lined the watercourse came into sight through the driving snow.
“Now, there is at least no danger of getting lost, no matter what other
peril confronts me.”
The thought had hardly passed through his mind when he stepped into a
snowdrift and sank down to his waist. He struggled to get out, but only
went the deeper.
“My gracious! this won’t do,” he cried, in alarm. “There must be a
hollow below me that has been filled up.”
He struggled on for a step or two, and then went down to his armpits,
and only saved himself from going down still farther by putting out his
arms and hands flatly on the snow around him.
He was now thoroughly scared, expecting every instant to be smothered
to death in the snow. There was no use in trying to go ahead farther.
He must get back to the high ground.
It was a hard and precarious struggle the lad had to leave the
deep snow. But at last he wormed his way around, and half-stepped,
half-rolled back to where he had stood a few minutes before. The loose
snow had gotten into his sleeves and his collar, and this chilled him,
despite the exertions he had made.
After this experience, he was cautious in his further forward
movements. He walked along the edge of the hollow for several hundred
feet, and did not attempt to gain the creek until a pathway that was
nearly bare presented itself. Then he passed the thin belt of timber,
and finally found himself on the ice of the watercourse.
Here he stopped for a rest, crouching behind a number of trees and
rocks for protection. He had covered about one-third of the distance to
camp, and it had taken nearly an hour to do it. At this rate it would
be long after dark ere his journey came to an end.
Harry did not dare to rest too long, fearing that the cold would make
him drowsy and cause him to go to sleep, from which he would probably
never awaken. He remained behind the trees and rocks just long enough
to “catch his wind,” and then set off as rapidly as he could down the
creek.
One-half of the distance down the watercourse was completed, and the
boy was just congratulating himself on the fine progress he was making
when a sound reached his ear that literally made his hair stand on end.
It was the cry of a wildcat, and it came from the brush immediately on
his left!
The cry lasted only a short while, but Harry had heard it before, and
he at once recognized it.
He knew the creature was out seeking food. Most likely it was in a
half-starved condition, and fierce beyond expression.
The boy did not know what to do. To flee was out of the question. The
creature could easily reach him if it so wished. Nor would it avail to
climb a tree.
He must prepare to defend himself should the wildcat attack him, and
he unslung his gun with all the haste possible, and got it ready for
immediate use.
The cry of the creature was repeated after a short interval of silence,
but the wildcat did not as yet show itself.
With his heart thumping violently in his breast, Harry continued on his
way, but with his glance over his shoulder in the direction from which
the sound had proceeded.
A hundred feet farther on, the creek made a bend, and here it grew
narrower. He kept in the middle of the frozen stream, but the trees on
either side were not ten feet away.
Suddenly the cry broke out again, so close to him that Harry sprang
back and hoisted his gun to his shoulder. Then the wildcat appeared
from over the top of a flat rock and made a leap directly for the
throat of the boy.
Bang! went the gun, and the shot flew for the greater part under the
creature’s body. Several pierced its front legs, and, with a snarl that
was tigerish in its intensity, it fell directly at Harry’s feet.
Hardly had it landed on the ice when, with its hind legs, it made
another leap at the boy, who endeavored to ward it off by thrusting the
point of the gun barrel at it. The muzzle entered the wildcat’s open
mouth, and once more it was forced to drop back upon its haunches.
Harry turned to flee, and gained several yards before the beast could
steady itself on its wounded legs and make after him. But soon the
wildcat was close at his heels, and, with a screech, it fastened itself
on his back.
Whirling about, Harry shook off the dreaded creature with such force
that the wildcat went over on its back on the ice. Before it could
recover, he dealt it a blow on the side with the gun that sent it
spinning over the ice for a distance of several yards.
Harry wished he had time to reload the gun, but this was out of the
question. The wildcat was wounded and dazed, but in less than five
seconds it was up again, and, with added fierceness, it came at the boy
a third time.
Harry knew it was now a fight to the finish, and his courage was
aroused to its highest pitch. As the wildcat leaped for him, he sprang
to one side, and once again brought his gun down, this time flat on the
creature’s head.
There was a sharp crack and a shrill cry, and the wildcat lay still.
More than likely its skull was crushed in.
Not to take any chances, should the creature be shamming, Harry hastily
reloaded, and then, stepping up to the animal, he discharged the gun
directly at its head. There was no sign of life. The wildcat was dead.
“Thank fortune!” he murmured to himself. “That’s what I call a good job
done!”
With a bit of cord, Harry suspended the dead body to the limb of a
tree, that he might come back some other time and get the skin for its
fur, and then he continued on his journey.
The excitement attending the journey was nothing compared to what he
had just passed through, and he thought no more of the hardships of the
walk through wind and snow. He pressed steadily on, and at a little
before eight o’clock reached the outskirts of the well-known spot for
which he was bound.
Coming in sight of the campfire he let out a shout to notify the others
of his approach. There was no answer.
“Must be in the hut asleep,” he muttered, and pressed forward until the
open doorway was reached.
But the hut was empty! The camp was deserted!