THE ROVER BOYS Boxed Set: 26 Illustrated Adventure Novels. Stratemeyer Edward

so Dick commenced to retreat.

      "Hi! what's up?" came from John Barrow, and throwing aside his blanket, he leaped to his feet.

       DICK AND THE WILDCAT.

      "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

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      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 was a clear day and the sun, shining over the mountain tops, made the snow and ice glitter like pearls and diamonds. There was no wind, so the journey toward Bear Pond was far from un pleasant. They moved slowly, dragging the sled behind them, and searching to the right and the left for some trace of the missing Rovers.

      "I don't believe they came up here," said Dick, after half the distance to the pond had been covered. "I don't see the least trace of any human being, although I've seen the footprints of several wild animals."

      "The wind might have covered the tracks during the night," was John Barrow's hopeful response.

      "I'd rather lose the treasure, even if it is worth thousands, than have anything happen to Sam and Tom."

      Just before noon they came to a point in the river where it divided into several branches.

      "We'll stop here and put up another sign pole," said the guide. "Remember what I said? All these streams run into the pond and into Perch River. Now, which one you want, at tudder end, I don't know."

      "Which is the largest branch?"

      "Can't say, exactly. This one an' the one yonder are about the same size, and that one aint much smaller."

      "Well, which do you suppose was the largest years ago?"

      "Can't say that neither, although that one yon der might have been, by the looks o' the banks,"

      "Then let us start on that one. And if that fails us, we can then try the others."

      They skated to the stream in question and erected a pole in the middle of the ice, upon which a second note was posted. Having gone to the trouble of chopping a hole for the pole, John Barrow suggested they might try their hand at fishing.

      "Might as well stay here a while," he said. "If they are behind us, they may catch up."

      Dick was willing, and soon a line was baited and let down into the hole. It was in the water only a few seconds when the guide felt a bite and drew up a fine fish, weighing at least half a pound.

      Dick was anxious to try it, and took the line from John Barrow's hands. He was equally successful, and in a short