"I guess we plugged him pretty well," said Roger.
With great caution Dave approached the bushes into which the wildcat had disappeared, and rather gingerly his chums followed him. They could see a trail of blood, which led to the bottom of a hollow between some rocks. Here they beheld the wildcat, stretched out on its side.
"Dead as a stone!" announced Dave, after a brief examination.
"Are you sure?" questioned Phil. "He may be shamming—some wild beasts do, you know."
"No, he's dead,—you can see for yourself."
"What shall we do with him?" questioned Roger, after all were convinced that the wildcat was really dead. "He isn't good for much."
"We could keep the skin—or have him stuffed," suggested Phil.
"Let us take him back to the ranch—so that the folks can see we really killed him," said Dave. "Then we might have him stuffed and sent to Oak Hall, to put in the museum."
"Just the thing!" cried the senator's son. "That will please Doctor Clay, I am sure."
They dragged the wildcat out into the open, and laid it where the horses might see that it was dead. As soon as they were aware of this, the steeds quieted down completely, and the boys had no more trouble with them. Dave and Phil carried the grouse and the fish, and Roger slung the wildcat up behind his saddle, and then off they set for Star Ranch at a gallop.