Comrades of the Saddle Part 13

The sound of the shot had galvanized Tom and Larry into action, and with a lightning movement they both stooped, seized their friend and pulled him to them just as the body of the buck struck the ground.

So unnerved were they all by the narrowness of the escape that for several moments no one spoke.

Then Mr. Wilder rallied them by exclaiming:

"See! see! The mist has lifted. There go three more deer up the valley. Come on! Let's see who can bring one down."

The chance for a shot brought even Horace out of his fright, and in a thrice the boys had sighted their rifles and fired. But no deer dropped.

"I hit one, I know I did!" declared Bill. "Let's follow."

"No, shoot again," returned his father. "We have the advantage here from being above."

Again the rifles cracked, and this time one of the deer gave a bound in the air and dropped flat.

"Hooray! We've got another!" cried the lads,

"Don't fire any more. The others are out of range," declared the ranchman.

"Please, just one more," begged Horace.

But his father refused, telling him that a good hunter never shot when there was no hope of bringing down his game.

"Never mind, we've got two," said Larry. "I call that pretty good luck."

And speculating as to whom the credit of hitting the second belonged, they all hastened to where it lay.

CHAPTER IX

THE MESSAGE FROM CROSS-EYED PETE

The sh.e.l.ls shot by the rifles belonging to the two chums were .44-.50, while those of the Wilder boys were .30, so that it would only be possible to tell whether the boys from Ohio had proved better marksmen than the Westerners. Yet the boys were eager to settle the question.

Chaffing each other good naturedly, they tramped along, and when they saw the size of the antlers and body of the second buck they forgot all rivalry.

"He's a beauty!" cried Horace. "I'm glad it wasn't he that made a jump for me. His p.r.o.ngs stick out a yard."

Though this was an exaggeration, the branches of the antlers were, indeed, surprisingly long.

"And there are fourteen of the p.r.o.ngs," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom, who had been counting the sharp points.

"Which makes him fifteen years old," a.s.serted Bill. "Just look at their spread; they must be all of four feet."

"Easily," said his father. "He's the biggest buck I ever saw. Ah, here's the bullet-hole, right back of the shoulder. It certainly was a splendid shot." And as he bent closer to examine it, the others awaited his decision as to which party the trophy belonged.

"Ohio wins!" he declared at last.

"Then Tom probably got him. He's a better marksman that I am,"

a.s.serted Larry.

Though the Wilder boys were naturally disappointed, they made the best of it, and Bill exclaimed:

"Come on, Larry. Let's go into the woods and search. I'm positive I hit a deer the first time I fired. Can we go, father?"

"Surely, only don't get lost. It will take me some time to dress the two bucks. If you are not back by the time I am finished, come to the plateau. We'll wait for you there."

Promising not to wander far, the elder boys entered the woods while the others a.s.sisted in dressing the monster buck.

After skinning the animal, the ranchman cut out the most savory parts and placed them in the pelt.

"Shall we take the antlers?" asked Horace.

"They'd be fine to have mounted, but they'll be awfully in the way while we're hunting. What do you think, Mr. Wilder?" And Tom appealed to him as to their proper disposal.

"They will be awkward to carry, that's a fact," a.s.sented the ranchman. "If you want them very much, though, we can leave them here and then stop on our way home. They'll be safe enough till we get back."

Readily Tom agreed, and he and Horace were just stooping to pick up one end of the hide, containing the deer meat, when Horace let out a cry.

"Oh, what's that thing up by my buck?"

"It looks like a tiger," exclaimed Tom, and then added: "But you don't have tigers out here, do you?"

"No. That's a mountain lion, which is almost the same thing, though," answered Mr. Wilder. "Now's your chance to show your marksmans.h.i.+p, Horace. Take a good aim and see if you can't knock him over."

No urging did his son need. Raising his rifle to position, the lad squinted along the barrel carefully and then fired.

Above the report of the shot rang out an ear-splitting howl, and the mountain Hon turned to face the direction of the sound.

"Give him another, son. You hit him, but not in a vital spot,"

said his father.

Again Horace aimed and fired, this time with better success, for the lion dropped in its tracks.

"Good work," praised Tom heartily. "That was a mighty long shot to make. Now if Bill and Larry only get something, we'll have bagged a trophy."

Elated at his success, Horace was starting toward his prize when his father called him back to help carry the pelt.

"My, but he's a beauty!" declared the younger of the chums when they reached the carca.s.s. "I should hate to come across one suddenly."

"They are not pleasant customers to meet," smiled Mr. Wilder. "I'm glad this fellow didn't visit us last night. Though why he pa.s.sed the horses by I don't know. Mountain lions are great ones for horse or cattle flesh. While I am dressing the buck you boys had better climb up to the plateau and see that our ponies are all right. Take some of the meat with you and then we won't be obliged to make so many trips."

With a piece of meat in one hand and a rifle in the other, the lads started up the trail and, though they went bravely enough, each in his heart was a bit frightened.

"Pete says mountain lions usually travel in pairs, so keep your eyes peeled," advised Horace.

But though they imagined several times they heard the purr of one of the prowlers, they reached the plateau without adventure.