Old Ruff, the Trapper; or, The Young Fur-Hunters

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

For one instant the dark, panther-shaped body was visible in the air, and then, as Harry saw it descending upon him, he gave the blanket a flirt so as to throw it directly over the head of the snarling beast, leaping aside at the same instant, and making another attempt to recover his position by the fire.

He succeeded in doing this, although he fell upon his hands and knees, and before he could scramble to his feet again, the brute had pawed the blanket from his eyes, and glancing around for an instant, discovered where his slippery victim was.

There can be but little doubt of the ultimate result of this strange contest, for every advantage was upon the side of the beast, which gave no evidence of suffering the least exhaustion from the wounds it had received.

But at this critical juncture a third party appeared upon the scene, not in the shape of Old Ruff or an Indian, but in that of another wild brute.

As Harry rose to his feet, torch in hand, and stood confronting his enemy, he heard a growl from his right hand, and concluded that it was all over with him beyond a question, if he was to be called upon to combat two such enemies.

The wounded animal heard the ominous sound, and also turned his head, sending back a defiant growl, as if to warn all outside parties that there was to be no interference here.

The thunderous growl was still rumbling in the throat of the brute when Harry saw a huge dark body pass like an arrow through the air, coming down from the rock over his head, and speeding as straight and truly as if fired from the mouth of a giant columbiad, directly at the defiant beast, which was not given time to prepare for the charge.

The attacking brute landed directly upon the shoulder of the other, and at the same instant the two closed in a deadly, fearful encounter.

With the quickness of lightning the fight assumed the fiercest character, the two wild beasts going at each other with the determination to do or die. Snarling, growling, clawing, scratching, gouging, biting, snapping, tearing and rending, they rolled over and over upon the ground, the hair flying in every direction.

Harry Northend stood transfixed, for the time, by the terrible scene before him. The fight was of that furious nature which showed that it would never terminate until one or both were dead, and that the consummation was sure to take place very speedily.