Crack! It was Henry’s rifle that spoke up. The aim was a hasty one, and the wolverine was hit in the hind quarters. Dave slipped to one side, and the beast landed at his feet. Then Dave stepped back, to get a shot, but the beast whirled around in the snow and once more gained the shelter of his lair.
The two young hunters lost no time in retreating, but Henry kept Dave from going too close to any bushes in the vicinity.
“You can’t trust a wolverine,” he said. “Load up quick—and keep your eyes wide open. He may be at our backs next.”
Dave was well aware of their danger. He had heard of a hunter being killed by a wolverine and heard Sam Barringford say that the beast was the most treacherous of animals. If cornered a wolverine will often fight to the death, no matter what the odds. It has been known to attack animals much larger than itself.
The two young hunters reloaded with speed and kept their eyes on the fallen trees. They saw a branch move, but could not see the wolverine. Dave, it must be confessed, began to grow a trifle nervous.
“Do you see him?” he asked, after fully a minute had passed.
“No, but—— There he is! Look out!”
The wolverine had appeared on one of the highest of the tree-branches. He made a lightning-like leap and gained one of the neighboring trees. Dave took a quick shot, but missed his mark. Then the body of the wolverine was hidden by the broad tree-limb.
“Let us get out of this,” said Dave. “Before we know it, one of us will get hurt.”
“I am going to kill that wolverine,” answered Henry, determinedly, all his hunting instinct on edge over what had already occurred.