With Trapper Jim in the North Woods Part 18

"But I hope I just happen on the old pirate again while we're up in this neck of the woods," observed the persistent Steve. "I'd just like to look along the barrels of my gun at the varmint, as Jim calls him."

"Yes, Steve, and he said he had an idea this was the same old cat that gave him a peck of trouble last winter, stealing some of the animals that were in his traps, but always avoiding getting caught himself."

"Why, Uncle Jim even tried to poison the thief, but nary a bite would the cat take of the doctored meat," Steve went on. "I hope this is the same tough old customer and that I sight him when I've got my gun along, that's all."

"We've got there, Steve. I can see the very tree where we hung up the balance of the little buck we knocked over."

Steve could not but note how Max persistently gave him an equal share in the credit of killing the deer. It warmed his heart toward such a generous chum. But, then, that was always the way with Max Hastings.

"Let's go a little slow, Steve," he continued; "we can't see the deer, because of the leaves that still hang on to the oak."

Silently then they advanced.

And just as they arrived at a spot where they could see the hanging carca.s.s, again did they hear that ferocious snarl as on the preceding night. Steve instantly threw his gun up to his shoulder, and at the same instant he heard Max at his elbow saying:

"Steady, Steve, steady! Look out, he's going to jump."

CHAPTER XII.

THE END OF A THIEF.

The wildcat had evidently found the hanging carca.s.s not a great while before. At the time the three boys approached he had been regaling himself as he clung to the upper part of the dangling buck.

Being only half satisfied he seemed angry at being disturbed in his meal.

The boys happened to be "down the wind" from him, and this would explain how it was they came upon him apparently unawares. But when a wildcat is in a frightfully bad humor he does not run off very easily, and this one, according to what Uncle Jim had said, was unusually bold. He had proved this by approaching the cabin of the trapper on the preceding night.

Crouching there on the swaying carca.s.s of the deer, and with his chops all b.l.o.o.d.y from his recent meal which they had disturbed, the bobcat presented a truly terrifying appearance.

His short ears were laid back close to his head, his yellow eyes glowed as though they were b.a.l.l.s of phosph.o.r.escence, and the hair on his back seemed to stand up on end.

Max had his gun in readiness, too.

He was not going to take any more chances than were necessary. Steve seemed to be all ready to fire, and he knew the other to be a pretty good shot. But, then, who could wholly depend upon such an excitable fellow?

Then the cat sprang!

Max heard Toby utter a shout of warning that was swallowed up in a tremendous roar close to his ears. Max sprang aside, and he thought he saw Steve doing the same sort of stunt. Toby was already safe behind the friendly trunk of a tree.

To the relief of Max the leaping cat seemed to crumple up in the air. It turned completely over, as though by the impact of something that had struck it. And when it reached the ground it lay even beyond the hanging venison.

"Wow!" came from Steve.

He was scrambling to his feet, having dropped his gun. There was a look of mingled satisfaction, surprise, and pain upon his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Max, noticing how the other was rubbing his right shoulder where the b.u.t.t of his shotgun had rested.

"Hurts like fun!" replied Steve, making a wry face.

"You mean it kicked, don't you, Steve?"

"Kick? Well, I'll be sore for a month of Sundays," replied the other, grunting as he touched a tender part. "Did you see me go over?"

"Sure I did, but I thought you were dodging the leap of the cat, the same as I did myself," returned Max.

"Dodging nothing!" said Steve. "I tell you that pesky gun clean kicked me off my pins. Never had it play me such a trick before."

Max stooped and picked up the shotgun. Then he laughed.

"It's all as simple as pie," he said.

"Do you mean I was that excited I pulled both triggers at once?" cried Steve.

"Well, both hammers are down, and," breaking the gun as he spoke, "you can see for yourself the sh.e.l.ls are empty."

"Glory! No wonder I blew that old cat away, then!" cried Steve. "With all those two dozen buckshot chasing through him the poor critter must have been nearly torn to pieces. And there my fine door mat goes a-glimmering!"

Investigation proved that Steve's fears were realized. The terrific discharge at such close quarters had so riddled the skin of the wildcat that it was not worth attempting to save.

"What a shame!" said Steve, as he got up again after examining the dead beast. "He was a jim-dandy, too. If I'd only had a crack at him thirty yards away instead of ten feet, I'd have saved that lovely pelt."

"But it was a corking good shot, I tell you, Steve," declared Max, warmly.

"That's j-j-just what it was," added Toby, who had parted company with the friendly tree, now that the danger seemed a thing of the past.

"To hit a tiger cat sitting on a limb is considered a good enough showing," continued Max; "but to knock holes through him while he is in the air jumping deserves high credit. Think of that every time your shoulder hurts."

"Anyhow," remarked Steve, cheerfully, "I can bat right or left handed, and I can shoot a gun the same old way; so this little accident won't knock me out of the running. But I'd be happier if I hadn't just ruined that skin."

"Well, better lug him home, anyway, if you feel able to," advised Max.

"Uncle Jim will be glad if he recognizes the crafty old thief of last winter in this cat you knocked down."

"Guess I will," Steve remarked, "though he'll be a load to tote. We'll wait and see how you come on with the venison."

"Oh, don't bother about that," said Max. "Toby and myself will look out for all we want to take with us."

"But those antlers--I promised to decorate my room with those, Max!"

"That's all right," declared Max. "Come for them before we leave here.

You know the place, and by that time the foxes will have cleaned them nicely for you."

And so things were arranged.

An hour later and the three lads headed for camp again. Each one toted his share of the burden. But long before the cabin was reached Steve began to feel sorry that he had determined to display the wildcat to the others in order to prove his story, and also let Trapper Jim see whether the victim of his double shot was the same despised and hated bobcat that had given him so very much trouble in the preceding year.

Nevertheless Steve was a most determined boy. And having started in to accomplish anything he could hardly be influenced to give it up just because his back ached and his lame shoulder protested.