Snarling and spitting the cat now crouched, facing the colonel,
and seemed about to spring.
"Knock him over the head!" shouted Donald. "Hit it in the head with
a stone," looking about for a weapon.
"Look out!" called Rand, "give me a chance at it!" drawing back his
bow and letting fly an arrow which pierced the animal's body and
knocked it sprawling, when Gerald added a blow from a well-directed
stone. With a wild scream the cat bounded into the air and fell
motionless to the ground.
"Look out, Rand!" cautioned Dick, creeping back from the bushes
into which he had fled as soon as he had gained his feet, as Rand
went up to where the cat was lying. "Take care it don't spring on
you!"
"No danger," replied Rand: "it's dead."
"Faith, thin, Oi w'udn't trust it, dead or alive," said Gerald.
"That was a good shot, Rand," commended the colonel, "and just in
time. A full-grown wild cat is an enemy not to be despised."
"I should say not," agreed Dick. "Ugh! I feel as if I had been
scraped with a curry-comb. I wonder," with a look at his clothes,
"if I couldn't get a job somewhere as a scarecrow?"
"But what has become of Pepper?" asked Don.
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