Steve had a fairly well developed stubborn streak in his nature, and he certainly did hate to give a thing up, once he had got started. Worst of all was the fact of their being compelled to acknowledge defeat through a miserable wildcat; had it been a panther now, a tiger, or a lion, he might bow to the inevitable with a good grace; but cats, in his mind, were always to be associated with the night-singing Tommies at home, for which species he felt a contempt that could best be displayed by a rock thrown from a bedroom window.
“Shucks! I hate to do it, but just as you say, Jack, the beast is set on drawing a regular dead line ahead of us, which we can’t pass without a fight. So when you’re ready give the word and we’ll quit cold. I’ll never feel like telling any of the fellows at home, though, how two of us were forced to turn tail by just one measly cat.”
“We might sit down here for a spell, and see if the brute will slink away,” suggested Jack, evidently also averse to giving up so easily.
“Good idea,” agreed Steve; and accordingly they found a convenient log upon which they could rest while waiting to see how the plan worked.
71Time passed, and Steve kept his face turned toward the spot where the last savage snarl had been heard. He had a vague suspicion that perhaps the beast might try to stalk them, just as he had seen a domestic tabby do a sparrow at home.
When fully ten minutes had crept by Jack made a slight move.
“Well, we can’t hang out here much longer,” he was saying; “already the afternoon is so far along that I’m afraid we’ll never be able to get back to camp before dark sets in. Let’s make a move, and test things.”
Hardly had they done so than once again they heard a repetition of those warning growls. Jack shrugged his shoulders and laughed drily.
“We hear you, old lady with the claws!” he called out, “and we understand that you are still on the job. It looks like she didn’t mean to lose sight of two such suspicious appearing chaps as we seem to be. Well, our cake is dough, and we might as well acknowledge ourselves beaten.”
“Oh! why didn’t we fetch our gun along, Jack?” sighed Steve, looking angrily toward the spot from whence the warning snarls had volleyed at them. “I’d give every cent in my savings bank for the chance to knock that critter over. What use are pesky wildcats anyway? They live on game birds and rabbits most always. If I had my way I’d clean out the whole bunch of them, kits as well as mother cats.”