This was better than Frank hoped for. An instant later there was a big puff of flame, and a dull report. The powder in the paper had exploded almost in the face of the wildcat.
With a scream of rage and pain the creature dropped to all fours, and began clawing the dirt and snow. The fire had burned her severely, and she was wild with pain.
“Good!” exulted Frank. “I wish I had another!” He peered down at the snarling cat, and began to open more cartridges. But it was too dark to see to work, and he had to stop, for he spilled the powder.
Suddenly, above the yelps and growls of the brute, the lad in the tree heard a hail far off in the woods. He listened a moment, and then shouted:
“Here I am, fellows. Over here! I’m treed by a wildcat! Look out!”
“We’re coming,” shouted Bart’s voice. “Where are you?”
Frank rapidly twisted some paper together, lighted it, and waved the improvised torch above his head. He hardly dared descend yet. A shout told him that his light had been seen. Then, off through the woods, he saw the flicker of a lantern.
“Come up easy,” he cautioned. “The brute is still here, though I burned her some.”
He dropped the blazing paper to the ground. It flared up, and the cat, with a snarl, sprang away.