“So-long!” exclaimed the ex-cowboy, as he dropped to the ground.
Frank did not know just then whether Tom Somers was trying to evade an expected attack from the big cat, or had been startled and alarmed by the suspicious “click” behind him, instantly followed by that electric flash.
“He’s gone!” whispered Bluff, excitedly.
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. The day had been saved by Will’s inoffensive camera after all, for there was no alarm, and they had escaped an encounter with the poisonous claws of that beast of prey.
“And I bet I got a dandy picture of him, too, for Will. Say, this isn’t so bad, after all. Perhaps there can be some fun hunting with a camera,” pursued Bluff.
“Silence, Bluff. Let’s lie here a bit and listen. I hope we didn’t happen to be so close to their camp as to let them see that flash through the trees,” whispered Frank, dropping down.
Five minutes later they once more began to creep forward. At the suggestion of Tom Somers, all of them were now on their knees, Bluff, as before, bringing up the rear.
It was very thrilling work, and Bluff found himself trembling with excitement as he trailed after his companions.
“Sure he’s a peach at this sort of business, and it was a bully streak of luck when we ran across the poor wretch tied up to a tree,” he was saying to himself, as he watched Tom Somers gliding along, keeping an eye on the ground, and sometimes almost poking his nose against the earth in order to solve a knotty problem.
He hoped they would run up against no more bobcats. While fortune had smiled upon them on that last occasion, perhaps the same good luck might not always be their portion; and Bluff found no desire in his heart for a tussle at close quarters with the owner of a set of claws such as these beasts sported.