The dog’s excited yelping, now that relief was at hand, was ear-splitting, but his vigilant watch did not for an instant relax.
“What is it, Guard—have you got a wildcat in there?” I panted, breathlessly, halting beside him. “Well; you just wait, now; we’re going to get him this time!” So speaking, I cautiously trained the muzzle of the rifle on the spot that his vigilant eyes never left off watching. Then I cast a hasty glance around. If half the wildcat stories that I had been hearing of late were true, it would be well to have some place of retreat to fall back upon, in case the cat, proving obdurate, should decline to die easily. Fortunately, as I thought, there was a large pine tree close at hand; it was, indeed, immensely large. I could no more have swarmed up that scaly trunk, had I flown to it for protection, than I could have spread out a pair of wings and flown to its topmost branches. In my excitement, I never thought of that, nor of the equally unpleasant fact that wildcats are expert climbers. Sure that the refuge at hand would suit, I dropped on one knee, training the rifle-muzzle into a crevice between a couple of fallen logs, and sighting along the barrel. I could see nothing, but, with my finger on the trigger, I was prepared to fire whether I sighted the enemy or not. Guard drew back, silent, now, but trembling with excitement.
“HOLD ON, I AIN’T NO WILDCAT!”
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“Hold on!” cried a voice from the rubbish heap, “I ain’t no wildcat!” The voice was shrill and sharp with terror, but I knew it instantly for that of Jacob Horton. The rifle slipped unheeded from my nerveless hand, while Guard, since there was evidently to be no shooting, resumed his former post and growled menacingly.
“Why—why,” I stammered, “if you are not a wildcat—if you are a man—I thought you had gone to town!”
“Gone to town!” the voice, losing its tone of terror, degenerated into a snarl. “I’ve been here all night. I’ve met up with an accident. I’m pinned down under a log, and that infernal dog of yours has stood and growled at me all night; I ain’t dared to say my soul was my own.”
“I don’t believe that any one else would care to claim it.”
The words broke from me involuntarily. I had the grace to feel ashamed the minute they were spoken. Guard’s prisoner answered my unfeeling observation with a groan, and I looked reproachfully at Guard, who returned the look with a hopeful glance of his bright eye and wagged his tail cheerfully. I think that he quite expected to receive orders to go in and drag his fallen enemy out to the light of day. Realizing that as a general thing Guard understood his own business I forbore to reproach him, at the moment, for having treed or grounded Mr. Horton.
“Are you badly hurt?” I inquired, falling on my knees before the crevice, and trying to catch a glimpse of the victim of an accident.