struck the cat between its glaring eyes, hurling it over
backwards, Thad could not help letting out a yell.

"Good shot, Bob!" he cried. "Get another, quick, for he's coming after
you like hot cakes!"

He himself was closing in on the cat all the time he shouted after this
manner. In another moment they were all in a confused bunch, the enraged
and wounded wildcat screaming and snarling; Thad pounding away every
chance he got; Bob kicking wildly at the animal, as he looked for a
chance to get hold of another stone; and the whole making quite a
lively circus.

Several times Thad landed with such a will on the side of the springing
wildcat that the wretched beast was knocked clean over. But with a
desperation that was simply astonishing it would get together, and come
flying back again, as though it really possessed the nine lives its
tribe is given credit for.

Of course this could not last long. The game was too one-sided, with two
against one; and in the end the cat was glad to jump into the bushes,
with a parting expression of hatred in the form of a snarl.

The panting boys stood and looked at each other. Each of them had a few
rents in their khaki trousers; and might have been served even worse
only that their puttees protected the lower part of their limbs.

"Whew! that was a hot time!" gasped Thad. "Did you see how many times I
bowled the thing over, and only to have to defend myself again? Give me
a mad wildcat for gameness. They haven't their equal going, pound for
pound."

"And I hit him when I threw that stone; I'm proud of that shot, suh!"
declared the Southern boy, with a grim smile.

"Say, it was a right smart throw, all right; but s'pose yuh come and
help me outen this trap now, strangers," came from the mountain girl.

As they turned toward her, and advanced, Thad saw immediately that she
was not the little Bertha whom he had looked upon, sitting beside Reuben
Sparks, and with her golden hair, seeming very much like a fairy.

This girl was slender, and with coarse, black hair. She was garbed in
common homespun clothes, and wore shoes that were doubtless much too
large for her feet. One of her ankles had been caught tightly in the
crevice of the rock. She might have managed to extricate herself if
given a little time; but the sudden appearance of that ugly fighting
wildcat had upset her; so that she had twisted and squirmed until her
foot was held as though in a blacksmith's vise.

Bob in his