"Hurrah! Maybe 'Mushroom' could do better than that!" cried the slim boy, exultingly. "Watch me again, Somers—wow!" Hackett, in his eagerness, almost slipped from his position.
"Gracious, Hacky—thought you were going down, sure."
"It was a close call. Fine, to be plumped right in among 'em," and Hackett gave a perceptible shiver.
Awaiting favorable opportunities, both kept on firing, and with each report, came yelps of rage and pain. The baffled animals scurried away, then slowly returned to the base of the cliff, where they trotted around, looking upward, their glistening teeth and red tongues giving them a most ferocious aspect.
"Only a few more left, now, Somers. Here goes another," and Hackett proved his assertion by a skilful shot. The blood-curdling screech that followed seemed to carry consternation into the hearts of the others. Hastily falling back, they circled around for a moment, then, dismally howling, leaped over the snow and disappeared from view behind the veil of falling flakes.
"My eye! That's great! We have done ourselves proud!" exclaimed Hackett. "Five of 'em! What will old Yardsley say to this, eh, Somers?"
"That we know how to look out for ourselves. Talk about being stiff and cold—my position is so cramped—"
"Let's get down, then."
"That's what I'm going to do just as soon as we're sure those beasts are not coming back."
After a considerable wait, when there was nothing to indicate that their savage foes were near, Bob Somers eased himself down, and, with a sigh of relief, stretched his aching limbs. By swinging his arms vigorously and dancing a jig, the circulation was quickly restored. Hackett followed his example.