Jack Winters' Campmates Part 7

"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 b.a.l.l.s 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 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.

"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. 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 pa.s.s 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."

CHAPTER IX

BACK TO THE WOODS CAMP

Steve had a fairly well developed stubborn streak in his nature, and he certainly did hate to give a thing up, once he had got started. Worst of all was the fact of their being compelled to acknowledge defeat through a miserable wildcat; had it been a panther now, a tiger, or a lion, he might bow to the inevitable with a good grace; but cats, in his mind, were always to be a.s.sociated with the night-singing Tommies at home, for which species he felt a contempt that could best be displayed by a rock thrown from a bedroom window.

"Shucks! I hate to do it, but just as you say, Jack, the beast is set on drawing a regular dead line ahead of us, which we can't pa.s.s without a fight. So when you're ready give the word and we'll quit cold. I'll never feel like telling any of the fellows at home, though, how two of us were forced to turn tail by just one measly cat."

"We might sit down here for a spell, and see if the brute will slink away," suggested Jack, evidently also averse to giving up so easily.

"Good idea," agreed Steve; and accordingly they found a convenient log upon which they could rest while waiting to see how the plan worked.

Time pa.s.sed, and Steve kept his face turned toward the spot where the last savage snarl had been heard. He had a vague suspicion that perhaps the beast might try to stalk them, just as he had seen a domestic tabby do a sparrow at home.

When fully ten minutes had crept by Jack made a slight move.

"Well, we can't hang out here much longer," he was saying; "already the afternoon is so far along that I'm afraid we'll never be able to get back to camp before dark sets in. Let's make a move, and test things."

Hardly had they done so than once again they heard a repet.i.tion of those warning growls. Jack shrugged his shoulders and laughed drily.

"We hear you, old lady with the claws!" he called out, "and we understand that you are still on the job. It looks like she didn't mean to lose sight of two such suspicious appearing chaps as we seem to be.

Well, our cake is dough, and we might as well acknowledge ourselves beaten."

"Oh! why didn't we fetch our gun along, Jack?" sighed Steve, looking angrily toward the spot from whence the warning snarls had volleyed at them. "I'd give every cent in my savings bank for the chance to knock that critter over. What use are pesky wildcats anyway? They live on game birds and rabbits most always. If I had my way I'd clean out the whole bunch of them, kits as well as mother cats."

"Well, we can't do anything along that line this trip," Jack told him.

"So say what you've got on your mind to the lady, and let's clear out.

These woods belong to her this afternoon, and we've got no business here."

"I don't mean to waste any more of my precious breath on the silly beast," grumbled Steve, as he turned his back toward the spot where the unseen enemy lay concealed in the scrub.

Jack headed toward the open s.p.a.ce along which they had formerly been walking. He had been wise enough to keep this in mind when trying to circ.u.mvent the obstinate feline enemy that refused to let them pa.s.s.

Once they found their trail, and it would be an easy matter to follow it toward camp.

They had lingered longer than either of them seemed aware. This fact was presently brought to their attention by the growing gloom of the woods around them.

"Why, Jack, the sun has gone down, I do believe!" exclaimed Steve, suddenly.

"No, it isn't time for it to set yet," his chum advised him. "We can't make sure of it, but I wouldn't be surprised if a bank of heavy clouds has risen in the west, and hidden the sun behind it. One thing certain, we're going to have the fun of tramping several miles through a dark woods."

"Well, so long as there are no rattlesnakes around this section of country, that won't make much difference with me," Steve a.s.sured him.

"Yes, and I might add I hope that mother cat is the only specimen of her race up here, too. It would be tough on us to run across another holdup, so we'd be between two fires."

It grew constantly darker. Undoubtedly Jack must be right about the heavens having clouded over in the west. Steve found another source for worry. This time it did not partake of the nature of animal foes.