"Here's a hungry cat facing me, and growling like everything. Aye, but he's wild to get at me, and I don't know just what a braw scout should do under the circumstances. Shall I gi'e the gillie a rap o'er the head wi' me stick; or beat a retreat like a wise general? I'm no' so taken wi' his looks I confess that I'm wishin' to make his further acquaintance. Hey; ye would bite me, eh? Tak' that, then, and learn better manners!"
Elmer snatched up another stick, while Lil Artha darted over to the tent and immediately reappeared bearing his trusty Marlin. They knew what it meant to be attacked by an angry bobcat, even if it was far in the morning, and these animals usually hide during the better part of the day, preferring the shades of night for their prowling.
Even as the pair started toward the spot, followed in turn by George and Rufus, as soon as the others could manage to find some sort of crude weapon, they heard a most terrific crashing going on. There were also short cries, now of pain and again of momentary triumph, to tell how Alec was progressing in his task of beating off the savage attack of the hungry wildcat.
There was no trouble in locating the spot where all this disturbance was taking place; the scuffling of Alec's feet, his jerky cries, and now and then a plainly heard snarl from the enraged cat led them as truly as the magnetic needle of the mariner's compass points out the North Star.
When they finally came in sight of the little woods drama they were thrilled to see how the brave Scotch lad managed to keep his four-footed enemy at bay by means of his clever strokes with his stick. Even as they looked he gave the beast a good blow upon the head that rolled it over; but instantly the cat was on its feet once more, and leaping at him. The performance was repeated, with the same result; but in case Alec failed in his stroke, he stood a good chance of having the animal land on his breast, when its claws and teeth would do terrible damage.
"Get the beast, Lil Artha!" cried Elmer, seeing that even their bursting on the scene did not appear to intimidate the enraged feline adversary that Alec was battling with.
He had hardly given the word than a report sounded. Lil Artha had once been quite a smart hunter, though of late his ambition to excel along those lines had waned. On this occasion his aim was particularly true, for the cat was seen to be writhing on the ground, as though fatally injured. Lil Artha immediately ran up and dispatched the dying beast with several blows from a stone; for although a hunter by instinct, Lil Artha could not be cruel and see anything needlessly suffer.
"I sure hated to have to do it the worst kind," he told Elmer, as he looked down at the now quiet beast, ferocious even in death, "because I reckon now she's got kits somewhere near by, which was what made her act so savage like. She smelled the food in camp, and was sneaking around in hopes of stealing something, when Alec, he chanced to run across her, and I guess waved his stick in a way she didn't just like. But I had to shoot her, and you thought the same, Elmer, you know."
"Yes, it couldn't be helped," the scout-master told him, "and besides, a fellow need hardly ever be ashamed of making way with a wildcat, because they are mighty destructive to all game. Why, this one beast would, in the course of a year, devour more young partridges, quail, rabbits and squirrels than half a dozen human hunters. And besides, I was afraid she might get inside Alec's guard, though he did swing that stick of his in great fashion."
"A few scratches is all the beastie managed to gi'e me," admitted the still panting Alec, and then, as he looked down on his now quiet adversary, he shook his head, continuing: "faith I tauld ye to tak yersil' awa' and leave me alone, but ye knew best. I'm awfu' sorry ye had to be kilt, but it was no fault o' mine."