"There would have been more—worse ones, probably—if you hadn't turned up," said Alf. "I couldn't get at the beast any way. She seemed to have claws like a porcupine's quills."
"And she knew jolly well how to use them. Do you think she's worth skinning?"
The dead lynx was examined.
"I don't think the hide is worth the trouble," commented Holden. "It's a bit ragged in any case, and the hunting-knife did not improve it. But I'll take the tail as a memento. What about the antelope?"
"Oh, I got him all right. He's lying somewhere in the grass."
"Good!" exclaimed Alf delightedly. He had soon recovered from the exhaustion of the fight. "That will surprise the paters when they return to grub. And say! I'm as hungry as a hawk. Let's get back to camp. It must be getting on for noon by this time."
"Half-past ten. That's all," remarked Bob, as he looked at his watch. "Time drags when the appetite's healthy. I vote we leave the antelope where it is for the present, and shoot a few chicken for dinner. It would be a pity for us to try skinning the animal. We might spoil it altogether. I dare say father will do it for us afterwards."
"What about wolves?" questioned Alf.
"Yes, I hadn't thought of them. But I don't think there's much chance of wolves coming in the daytime. It would be safe enough until night."
"Right you are," agreed Alf. "First for the tail of my lynx, and then a bee-line for the camp."