It gave a shudder or
two, and then stretched out, dead.
"Is he--he dead?" panted Dick, when he felt able to speak.
"Reckon so," responded John Barrow. "But I'll make sure." And catching
up a club, he aimed a blow which crushed the animal's skull.
"That was a narrow escape," went on Dick. "If you hadn't come to my aid,
I'm afraid he would have done me up." And he shivered from head to foot.
"You want to be careful how you attack wildcats around here, lad. It
aint likely they'll tech you, if you don't tech them. But if you do,
why, look out, that's all."
"Do you think he would have sneaked off with the turkey? I was thinking
first he would attack you."
"Reckon he was after the game, and nuthin' more, Dick. He must have been
powerful hungry, or he wouldn't have come so close to us. He's a putty
big fellow," went on the guide, as he dragged the carcass closer to the
firelight.
The fire was burning low, and Dick lost no time in heaping on some of
the newly cut brushwood, and then he reloaded and the guide did the
same.
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