"There's your chance," whispered Wallop to the cadets. "Quick, now; or he may leap away before you can say Jack Robinson."
"Go ahead, Gif," said Jack quickly, for he felt that their host should have the first chance to shoot.
There was no time to argue the matter, and, raising his gun, Gif took hasty aim and fired. His aim was not of the best, for only a few of the scattering shot pierced the fox's side. The animal wheeled around in evident astonishment, and for a second did not know which way to escape.
"Fire at him! Fire at him!" called out Jed Wallop quickly. "Fire, or he'll git away."
This time all of the others blazed away, one after another. Several of the charges went wild, but Randy managed to catch the fox directly in the shoulder, and he leaped high in the air, and then came down, floundering around and kicking the loose snow in all directions.
"Hurrah! We've got him!" cried Randy.
"Mebbe you have and mebbe you haven't," answered Jed Wallop. "Better run in and finish him."
Gif was the first to do this, and a final charge caused the fox to cease his struggles.
"A purty good-sized animal," remarked the old hunter, when they were inspecting it. "That skin is worth some money."
The old hunter said he would carry the dead fox for them, and again they went forward. They spent the best part of the afternoon looking for more foxes, but in this they were disappointed. However, deep in the woods they came upon a covey of partridges. All banged away at a lively rate, and had the satisfaction of killing three of the birds.