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 Dick, 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 Dick, and the chill he had experienced passed 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 Dick, gave another snarl, and leaped toward the youth.
The gun was double-barreled, and once more Dick 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 Dick commenced to retreat.
"Hi! what's up?" came from John Barrow, and throwing aside his blanket, he leaped to his feet.
"A wildcat!" ejaculated Dick. "Quick! Shoot him!"
"By gosh!" 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 Dick, and now, watching its opportunity, it leaped upon the youth, trying to bury its claws in Dick's shoulder.
Hardly knowing what to do, Dick brought around the gun barrel and poked it into the open mouth of the wildcat. With a gurgle of pain the beast fell back, but quickly gathered itself for another leap.
"Back!" shouted John Barrow. "Back, and let me git a shot at the critter!"
Dick was perfectly willing to retreat, and started to do so. But the wildcat was too quick for him, and in a twinkle youth and beast were down on the ground together, and the wildcat was trying to reach the boy's throat with its cruel fangs!
CHAPTER XX
BEAR POND AT LAST
It was indeed a moment of supreme peril, and Dick felt very much as if his last moment on earth had come. He put out his hands mechanically and grabbed the wildcat by the throat, but his grip was poor and the beast shook itself clear with ease.
It was now that John Barrow showed himself to be a master of quick resources. To fire his rifle at the wildcat would have meant taking the risk of hitting Dick, and this the guide thought too perilous. Leaping to the fire, he caught up a long, burning brand and rushed at the beast with this.
To have a part of the fire thrust directly into its eyes was more than the beast had bargained for, and as soon as it felt the flame it gave a cry of alarm and fell'l back. As it did this Dick leaped to his feet and sprang several feet away.
John Barrow was now free to shoot, and hurling the firebrand at the wildcat, he caught up his rifle and blazed away in short order. The wild cat had turned to retreat, but the guide was too quick for it, and down went the beast with a shot through its head. It gave a shudder or two, and then stretched out, dead.
"Is he — he dead?" panted Dick, when he felt able to speak.
"Reckon so," responded John Barrow. "But I'll make sure." And catching up a club, he aimed a blow which crushed the animal's skull.
"That was a narrow escape," went on Dick. "If you hadn't come to my aid, I'm afraid he would have done me up." And he shivered from head to foot.
"You want to be careful how you attack wild cats around here, lad. It aint likely they'll tech you, if you don't tech them. But if you do, why, look out, that's all."
"Do you think he would have sneaked off with the turkey? I was thinking first he would attack you."
"Reckon he was after the game, and nuthin' more, Dick. He must have been powerful hun gry, or he wouldn't have come so close to us. He's a putty big fellow," went on the guide, as he dragged the carcass closer to the firelight.
The fire was burning low, and Dick lost no time in heaping on some of the newly cut brush wood, and then he reloaded and the guide did the same.
"Might have a mate around," suggested John Barrow. "We had better keep our eyes peeled, or we may be surprised. Wonder what time it is?"
By consulting a watch they found it was just midnight. After the excitement Dick felt quite sleepy, and inside of half an hour he followed the guide's advice and laid down to rest — not under the tree, however, but as close to the camp-fire as safety permitted.
Dick had requested John Barrow to call him in three hours, so that the guide might get a little more sleep, but the youth was allowed to slumber until he aroused of his own accord, just as day was breaking.
"Hullo, I've slept all night!" he exclaimed, leaping up with something of a hurt look. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I thought as how you needed the rest," was the answer from the guide.
"Aren't you sleepy?"
"Not very. A sleep early in the night generally does me more good nor hours o' it later on."
"You haven't seen or heard anything of Tom or Sam?"
"Nary sight or sound, lad. It's too bad, but don't worry too much."
"They couldn't have seen the firelight," returned Dick, with a sorry shake of his head. "It beats all where they went to, doesn't it?"
"I've been a-thinking that maybe they went on ahead, Dick."
"Ahead? That they somehow passed us?"
"Yes; while we were lookin' for 'em. They may be up at B'ar Pond now, waitin' for us."
"Do you advise going up there?"
"We might as well. We can put up a post here, with a message for 'em — in case they do come this way."
"That's an idea, and we can put up other posts, too. Then, if they strike our trail, they'll be sure to go straight in following us." And Dick's face brightened a bit.
John Barrow was already preparing breakfast, and he agreed with Dick to leave some cooked meat in a cloth tied to the top of the pole the youth erected not far from the fire. On the cloth they pinned a note, telling of the direction to Bear Pond, and asking Tom and Sam to follow and fire: two shots, a minute apart, as a signal.
It
