“Stop rolling, Jack!” suddenly called Tom, “or you’ll be in the lake,” for his chum, being unable to see the result of the shot, still imagined himself in danger, and was approaching the water.
At Tom’s call, however, he slacked up in his queer method of progress, and arose to his feet.
“That was a close call,” said Jack, as he limped up to the others. “Who did the business for our savage friend there?” and he kicked the carcass.
“Tom did. You might have known it,” answered Bert.
“I just happened to,” said our hero modestly. “I was in the lead, and saw it first. Then I fired.”
“And a good job for you that he did,” remarked Dick.
“Thanks,” said Jack, fervently, and his hand and that of Tom met in a firm clasp.
“What sort of a beast is it, anyhow?” asked Bert, as he surveyed the tawny body.
“A lynx, and a big one, too,” declared Dick, who knew something about animals. “They’re as savage as a wildcat when they’re hungry, and this one probably thought Jack would make a good meal.”