“I’ve got my eye on him now,” answered Joel Runnell. “Both of you stay where you are, and reload.”
Neither had thought of reloading, but now they did so with all possible speed. In the meanwhile Joel Runnell was moving down among the pines. They listened and heard the wolverene make a leap from one branch to another, then all became suddenly silent.
“Oh, I hope Runnell don’t get hurt,” muttered Bart.
There followed a short spell of silence, and then the firearm of the old hunter rang out. The report was followed by a cat-like screech, loud and of short duration. Then from one limb to another tumbled the wolverene, striking the ground with a whirl and sending the snow flying in all directions. But the shot was a fatal one, and in a few minutes the savage beast gave a shudder, stiffened out, and lay still.
“Is he—he dead?” asked Bart, almost in a whisper.
“Dead as a door nail, boys,” answered Joel Runnell. “He was a fighter right enough, wasn’t he?”
“I never want to go after another wolverene,” declared Joe.
“You are right; one is enough,” returned Bart. For once his face was strangely white.
“What shall we do with the animal?” went on Joe.
“May as well keep the hide,” answered the old hunter. “That will pay us back for our deer meat. You can make a mat of it when you get home.”