It was now that John Barrow showed himself to be a master of quick resources. To fire his rifle at the wildcat would have meant taking the risk of hitting Dick, and this the guide thought too perilous. Leaping to the fire, he caught up a long, burning brand and rushed at the beast with this.
To have a part of the fire thrust directly into its eyes was more than the beast had bargained for, and as soon as it felt the flame it gave a cry of alarm and fell back. As it did this Dick leaped to his feet and sprang several feet away.
John Barrow was now free to shoot, and hurling the firebrand at the wildcat, he caught up his rifle and blazed away in short order. The wildcat had turned to retreat, but the guide was too
quick for it, and down went the beast with a shot through its head. It gave a shudder or two, and then stretched out, dead.
"Is he—he dead?" panted Dick, when he felt able to speak.
"Reckon so," responded John Barrow. "But I'll make sure." And catching up a club, he aimed a blow which crushed the animal's skull.
"That was a narrow escape," went on Dick. "If you hadn't come to my aid, I'm afraid he would have done me up." And he shivered from head to foot.
"You want to be careful how you attack wildcats around here, lad. It aint likely they'll tech you, if you don't tech them. But if you do, why, look out, that's all."
"Do you think he would have sneaked off with the turkey? I was thinking first he would attack you."