"Dave hit him in the forequarter," announced Roger, after an examination of the dead animal. "More than likely the beast would have died from that wound."
"I don't know about that," returned our hero; modestly. "You are the one who settled him. That was a fine shot, Roger. It couldn't have been better." And on this the others agreed.
As no one cared to take the trouble to skin the wildcat, the beast was left where it had fallen, and the boys once more took their way along the trail leading to the spot where they had seen the smoke. Soon the trail made another turn, and then came out on a path which was wider and showed considerable usage.
"Here are footprints," said Ben, pointing to them. "I believe we are getting close to some sort of a house or cabin."
A few minutes later the broad path they had discovered made another turn, and then in the distance they saw a neat log cabin, located on the bank of a small mountain torrent. From the chimney of the cabin a thin wreath of smoke was curling.
"That's the smoke we must have seen," announced Dave. "Now the question is: Who lives there?"
"And how will they take our arrival," added Phil.
"Wait a minute!" ordered Dave, and put out his hand to stop his chums from advancing. He had seen a man come limping from the mountain torrent with a bucket of water in his hand. Now the man stopped in front of the door to the cabin as if to look around before entering.
"Well, that isn't the wild man; that's sure! And it isn't Link Merwell, either," announced Roger.
"Say, I've seen that man before!" cried Phil, in sudden excitement.