"By Jingo, I never saw anything stand so still," exclaimed Sam Randall.
Hackett's arms trembled in his eagerness and excitement, as he pulled the trigger. Two deafening reports blended into one.
Without a cry, the wildcat toppled off the tree trunk, and fell with a thud in the snow, where it lay motionless and stretched out in a strangely stiff position.
With loud shouts of exultation, Hackett and Nat Wingate leaped forward. Clutching his still smoking gun by the barrel, the former swung it with telling force on the animal's head.
"Hurrah, hurrah!" he cried. "I've settled him. Don't be scared, Somers and the rest—wow—"
Hackett suddenly paused, the light of excitement faded from his eyes and he began to stare. A dreadful suspicion that everything wasn't as it should be had entered his head.
Nat, too, was staring, and so were all the others.
The wildcat had a most unusual appearance. Its head was flattened to a most extraordinary degree by Hackett's blow, and its four legs stuck up in the air, stiff and straight, like pokers.
A discovery was made—an amazing discovery—the wildcat was stuffed. One yellow glass eye had dropped out and lay upon the snow.
There was a moment of silence. Then Hackett, with an angry exclamation, delivered an energetic kick, which lifted the stuffed animal in the air and sent it tumbling to the ground several feet away. As it fell, a long rent appeared, from which flew an abundant supply of pine-needles.