“I’ve heard foxes bark before, Jack,” said Steve, with a trace of excitement in his manner, “but never like that. I reckon now those bowwows were plain dog!”

“Sure thing,” remarked his companion, nodding his head at the same time, while a pleased look flashed athwart his face.

“It wasn’t so far away, either, was it?” continued Steve, meditatively. “We have the air in our favor, that’s true, but the sound was pretty strong. Huh! seems as if we may not be the only campers in this stretch of the Pontico Hills. Other folks have taken a notion to come up here. I wonder if they can be Chester fellows, or from some other place.”

“It doesn’t matter much to us who they are, since we don’t intend to mix with them,” said Jack, drily.

“That was a pretty husky bark, Jack, and I should say on a venture the beast might be a fair-sized dog. I think I’ll look around for a nice club as we saunter along. Never did fancy being jumped on by a mastiff, or a vicious collie. Been bitten twice already, and the third time might be fatal to poor little Stephen.”

63“That isn’t a bad idea,” his mate told him; “and I’ll copy your example. Then if we are unlucky enough to run smack into the beast, we can keep him at bay anyhow until his owners come up and rescue us. But I’d a heap rather not have it happen. As you say, the air is coming toward us, which is a good thing; for in that case even a dog with a good nose wouldn’t be apt to get our scent in a hurry.”

Jack now evinced a disposition to move on. It was as if that series of gruff barks from the unseen dog had acted as a sort of challenge; and having a duty to perform he meant to carry it out grimly.

They accordingly walked on, not making any kind of haste. Indeed, Jack showed a disposition to act cautiously. He was continually keeping a careful vigil, and, as a rule, his eyes were directed ahead. There seemed to be no longer a disposition to look for beautiful vistas that might draw forth exclamations of delight; and as for snapping off a picture, why, Jack had slung his camera back of his shoulder with a final air that told he had put such an idea completely out of his head.

As the minutes passed and they heard no further indications of the dog’s presence near by, they concluded that he must have gone back to his day dreams. Steve found himself more than ever puzzled by the actions of his companion. He wished harder than before that Jack would lift the veil a little, and tell him what it all meant, who 64 that man might be, and what he was doing up there among the hills that would bear watching.

It began to get real exciting once, when Jack suddenly ducked and pulled Steve down with him, as though he had glimpsed something suspicious. Valiant Steve gripped his club with a firmer clutch, took a big breath, and awaited the coming of the savage dog; for he believed nothing less than this was about to confront them.

Jack raised his head so that he might see above the bushes behind which they chanced to be crouching. Then he gave a low chuckle as of amusement.

“False alarm after all, Steve!” he whispered. “See, it was only a red fox scuttling away, with his big brush dangling behind him. He was just waking up after his afternoon nap, and wondering where he could get a fat partridge for his supper when our coming disturbed him. I just caught a glimpse of something moving, and on the spur of the moment of course could think only of the dog.”

Steve breathed freely again. He also knocked on the ground a bit savagely with that elegant club of his.

“Well, I’m just as well pleased, Jack,” he remarked, “though I had it made up to give the brute all that was coming to him. Once let me get a fair crack at him with this stick, and he’ll go daffy, I warrant you. I’ll put all the vim into the blow that stands for a home-run hit on the diamond. 65 But remember, I don’t like dog, and I’m not aching for a chance to make the try.”

So again they started along, still heading straight toward the region out of which had come that tell-tale barking. They had come to a still wilder section of country by now. The land was cut up by little ridges and gullies and walking proved more tiresome. Jack appeared to notice this fact, as though it might have a certain significance in his eyes. To Steve, however, it only meant that there must be more chances of game holding forth amidst these dark and gloomy depressions, where trees and heavy undergrowth combined to make an almost impassable stretch.

While there was really no trail for them to follow, it happened that the easiest way to make progress took them along a direct line. On either hand the impediments seemed to be such as to discourage any variation from their course. Only with considerable effort could they have pushed through the tangled vegetation, and for one, Jack did not seem disposed to try it.

Then something happened.

“Oh! did you hear that, Jack?” gasped Steve.

Both of them had come to an abrupt halt, and were standing there, straining their eyes to see what lay ahead of them.

“The first time it was a dog,” muttered Jack, as if communing with himself; “and now, unless I’m might mistaken, that meant cat!”

“Cat!” echoed Steve, incredulously. “Why, it 66 was a whole lot louder noise than any cat I ever ran across could make! a snarl that sent a cold chill racing up and down my backbone. Cat? What sort of a cat would you call it, Jack?”

“A wild cat, if anything,” replied the other, neither of them stirring as yet. “Look around you and tell me if anybody could imagine a better place for such a beast to live in. And I think I’ve located it. We can find out quickly enough by making a move as if to go on.”

He suited the action to the words. Instantly there came the repetition of that vicious snarl. It seemed to contain all the concentrated essence of savage hatred, and sent another shiver over Steve.

“Now I can see the critter, Jack!” snapped Steve, extending his club to point toward a certain tree standing directly in their path. “Crouching right on that lower limb. Oh! how his yellow eyes glare at us! Excuse me from wanting to come to close quarters with such a demon.”

“For one thing, you’ve settled on the wrong gender, Steve,” remarked Jack in a fairly cool tone; “because if you look sharper you’ll see two other puffy balls close by the first one. Those are half-grown whelps, and the mother stands ready to defend them to the last ounce of her strength, and drop of blood. We’ve surprised Mrs. Cat at home.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Jack, those must be cubs, for I saw one move just then. But with such a combination against us what are we going 67 to do? Surely you won’t think of trying to scare the old cat away?”

“Twenty armed men couldn’t do that, so long as her kits were in danger,” Jack told him. “If we still mean to advance there’s only one way to do it. We can’t fly over, and consequently it’s up to us to go around, or else turn back and acknowledge ourselves baffled.”

“I hate to do that last the worst thing,” grumbled Steve, giving another whack at the ground with his long club, shaped somewhat like a baseball bat; “but whatever you say goes, Jack.”

“It looks a trifle easier traveling over on the left,” observed Jack, “so let’s make our try there.”

When they started, there was another volley of snarls from the beast in the tree, evidently laboring under the impression that this flank movement had some bearing on the safety of her precious offspring.

Steve kept his eyes turned in that quarter about as much as he used them to take notice of the way he was going. Every unusually loud snarl made him think the cat was about to launch herself toward them in an attack; so that the boy was kept worked up to fever heat all the time.

“She’s on the move, Jack!” he now hissed. “I saw her leap down to the ground and run along. Say, she’s keeping on a line with us, would you believe it?”

Jack took a look himself in order to be convinced.

68“You’re right there, Steve,” he said, with a short laugh. “After all our trying this little dodge may not be worth the candle.”

“She’s bent on keeping us from advancing, seems like,” complained Steve. “Why, the pesky thing acts like she had a mortgage on all that stretch of woods beyond here, and didn’t mean to let us foreclose on her either.”

“One thing sure, she isn’t afraid of two fellows like us,” chuckled Jack. “Even our clubs have no terror for the mother of the kitties. Why, if we dared push on ahead she’d jump at us like a flash.”

“I certainly feel cheap, being held up like this by an ordinary cat,” gritted the burly Steve between his teeth.

“When you’re up against an enraged wildcat mother,” Jack told him, “and without a sign of a gun to back you, that’s the time to spell prudence in big capital letters. They’ve got terrible claws, and can use them to tear a fellow’s clothes to ribbons, not to mention what they’ll do to your hide. No use talking, Steve, if the miserable beast is dead set on keeping us from going on we’ll have to own up beaten, and retire with our skins whole.”

“I’ve lost track of her for a minute, Jack. Wonder now if she’s gone back to her family, thinking we’ve been scared off.”

“You can test that easy enough,” he was informed; “just take a step or two forward, and see what happens; but don’t be too rash, Steve. 69 You’ll need all your good looks when you get back to Chester again. I’d hate to see the map of Ireland across your face in red scratches. Besides, there’s always danger of blood poisoning setting in when a wild animal has scratched you, especially one that is carnivorous by nature. Go slow now.”

The experiment met with an immediate success, for there broke forth a fresh series of explosive snarls even more ferocious than any that had gone before. Steve drew up in a hurry, evidently under the impression that he was in danger of being made the object of an attack.

“Yes, she’s there still, Jack!” he exclaimed, just as though there could be any doubt of such a thing.

“I saw her move, in the bargain,” his companion went on to say. “She has kept on a line with us all the while, and still bars the way.”

“This is simply disgusting,” fretted Steve.

“It’s something that can’t very well be helped,” Jack told him: “and so what’s the use of feeling bad about it. There are other days coming, when we may be able to pass along here without being balked by a mother cat with kittens. You know the old saying, ‘what can’t be cured must be endured,’ so we’ll have to make the best of it.”

“Does that mean we’re at the end of our rope for today, Jack?”

“Seems that way, Steve; the cat rules the roost this time, apparently.”