The long, white teeth were snapped together over the backs of two of the dead game, and then, with a leap to one side, the wild and half-famished animal vanished into the gloom behind the neighboring rocks, just as Jack and Harry, guns in hand, tumbled out to see what was the matter.
They found Andy leaning up beside the shelter, too faint to stand alone. For fully half a minute he could not speak, but pointed excitedly toward the rocks.
“A tiger, or wildcat, or something!” he gasped, at last. “Gone with the rabbits!”
“Can’t be a tiger!” returned Harry.
“I thought I saw a wildcat when we were in pursuit of Pete Sully and his crowd,” said Jack, quickly. “Let’s take a look.”
“Be careful!” exclaimed Andy, in wild alarm. “It’s the worst creature you ever saw! It nearly paralyzed me by a look!”
“They are awful!” put in Boxy, making his appearance, followed by Pickles. “I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
But despite the protests of the others Jack and Harry insisted on going after the marauder. They looked to their guns and provided themselves with torches.
Their hunt lasted for nearly half an hour without success. Evidently the wildcat had taken itself off to its lair with its prey.
After that the boys slept with one eye open, and the one on guard held his gun in readiness for immediate use should the wildcat, or any other animal, put in an appearance. But this precaution was unnecessary, for the balance of the night passed without further interruption.