An instant later a shot rang out, and the beast turned a somersault, falling over backward—dead. Bart had seen the tawny body in the gleam from the burning paper, and had fired in the nick of time.
“You can come down now, Frank,” he cried, as he and the other chums rushed up to where the wildcat was still twitching in death.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN
Frank’s story was soon told, and he was helped back toward camp by his comrades, for he was stiff from his long position in the tree.
“You want to be more careful of your gun, next time,” cautioned Bart, “and take the right one.”
“Yes, and you want to take some grub with you,” added Fenn. “You never can tell what will happen in the woods. Hungry, aren’t you?”
“Don’t mention it,” begged Frank, earnestly. “I could even eat pancakes flavored with soap powder.”