"Certainly, an eagle; that's what I told you," pursued Hackett. "Then I said to myself—"
"You mean that you let out a screech which awakened the whole bunch," put in Nat, laughingly.
"Well, I thought I'd give everybody a chance to get a shot at it, that was all," went on John. "Well, we jumped up in a hurry, and sallied forth—say—did you hear any shots?"
"Rather!" laughed Bob.
"Well, if my foot hadn't slipped, there would have been one wildcat less."
"Ha, ha!" roared Nat. "Over there, you'll see a tree that looks to be dead. But it isn't. 'Hatchet' shot off almost every leaf."
"Just as I got a bead on him," explained John, "my left foot went down in a hole—"
"And your gun up in the air," finished Nat. "I thought you were aiming at the moon."
"Then," said Hackett, "the beast was right upon me. I grabbed my gun by the barrel, and gave it a fearful clip on the head. Wow, such a screech as went up! I'll wager it nearly killed the beast."
"Do you mean that the screech nearly killed it, or what?" asked Nat, with another boisterous laugh. "I'll bet you only hit a tree trunk."