As it was too early to think of commencing that job, he had wandered forth for a little stroll, not meaning to go far away from the cabin. Of course such a thing as danger never once appealed to the boy; and with those new thoughts concerning hunting and destroying animal life in possession of his mind, he certainly was not going to shoulder his shotgun, which he had left in a corner of the cabin.
In the midst of his wandering he suddenly heard a strange scratching sound that gave him a thrill. Looking up in the quarter from which it seemed to come, Lil Artha was astonished to see a pair of yellow eyes glaring down at him, and recognize the gray coat of a ferocious wildcat.
He instantly jumped at the conclusion that this must be the mate of the animal they had killed after it had forced an entrance into the cabin, to steal Uncle Caleb's smoked meat, and then savagely attacked them. Yes, there could be no doubt about it; and the cat was evidently of a mind to spring upon him, and through means of its terrible claws seek to have revenge for the loss of its mate. Some feline instinct doubtless told the beast that this boy must have been concerned in the death of the partner of its joys and sorrows, which we happen to know was the actual truth.
Lil Artha's first thought was to turn and sprint for the safety of the cabin as fast as he could go. Then it struck him as a dangerous thing to turn his back on such a treacherous foe as a wildcat; for there could be no question but what the animal would immediately make its leap, and land on his shoulders.
Lil Artha realized that the best thing for him to do was to keep his face turned toward his four-footed enemy. If only now he could pick up a suitable cudgel he might be able to give a decent account of himself; but to struggle with that terror of the snow forest, with only his bare hands, did not please him at all.
He shot a hasty glance all around him. The snow happened to have blown away in that particular spot, where one of the boys had been chopping fuel; and there Lil Artha discovered just the sort of stick he believed he could wield to good advantage in keeping his feline foe at bay.
Giving a wild shout, in hopes of alarming the beast more or less, he sprang toward the coveted trophy, with outstretched hand. And when his eager fingers closed about the end of the three-foot club Lil Artha felt considerably better.
It appeared, though, that his work was cut out for him. The cat actually leaped directly for him, and never would the boy forget how terrible the sight of that flying figure passing through space appeared to his excited mind.
By a nimble jump to one side Lil Artha managed to avoid contact with the extended claws of the cat; and the disappointed animal, upon landing in a heap, instantly whirled around and again sprang toward him. This time the boy struck with his club, and managed to knock his assailant over, though the now thoroughly aroused animal seemed more determined to get at him than ever.
So the battle raged, Lil Artha all the while shouting at the top of his lungs, though he hardly knew what for, since his chums and Uncle Caleb were more than a mile distant, and could hardly hear him at best.