“Looks like she got ’im,” grinned Jarvis, straightening his cramped limbs.
For the first time the mother bear seemed to realize their presence, and, apparently scenting more danger, she began again pushing her cub before her, disappearing at last over the next low hill.
“Bully for ’er!” exclaimed Jarvis.
For some time they sat there on the crusted snow unable to believe that the tiger was dead, and unwilling to trust themselves too close to his keen claws and murderous fangs. Finally, Dave rose stiffly.
“Let’s have a look,” he muttered.
“Sure ’e’s done for?”
As they bent over the stiffening form of the great yellow cat, Jarvis gave the head a turn.
“Broke!” he muttered; “’is neck is broke short off! I say she packed a wallop!”
“And the skin’s ours!” exclaimed Dave joyously. “What a beauty! We’ll skin him before he freezes.”
Suiting his action to his words, he began the task. He had worked in silence for some time when he suddenly stood up with a start.