The Fiery Totem Part 2

Luckily the boy's hunting-coat was of tough buckskin, and when the lynx set her teeth in the collar she imagined that she was wreaking vengeance upon flesh and blood. And the sound she made was enough to chill the marrow.

Arnold had heard the scream and his chum's cry of surprise at the sudden a.s.sault. But he did not understand it at first. He surmised vaguely that it was nothing more than sympathetic rejoicing at his successful shot that had toppled a fine buck antelope in the gra.s.s.

However, second thoughts quickly dispelled the first surmise, for he heard Holden calling upon him in evident trouble.

"Bob! Come quickly! There's something on my back, and I can't get at it!"

Bob dashed into the long gra.s.s as the shortest route. But before he had crossed the slough Alf had managed to free himself from one sleeve of his coat, and had got the lynx beneath him.

Now it was a hand-to-hand fight. The claws of the animal seemed to be everywhere. They struck with lightning swiftness, and the teeth snapped like steel gins. In fact, the boy's opponent was simply a ma.s.s of fur and claws--nothing that could be gripped, but everything that could wound.

"Don't shoot!" exclaimed Alf, as his friend appeared with gun half raised in his hands. "You can't get a clean shot at her--ugh! the brute!

She's clawed my shoulder!"

It was a fierce struggle while it lasted.

Hot and panting, Alf fought to get a grip of the creature's throat. She, on her part, seemed to divine his purpose, and battled successfully to prevent him.

The combatants rolled over. The lynx was uppermost, and she made a vicious snap at the boy's face. But the quick head-turn of a trained boxer avoided that snap, and the sharp white teeth met in the lad's coat collar, slightly grazing his neck.

Alf gave a cry of pain.

That was too much for Bob, who s.n.a.t.c.hed his hunting-knife from its sheath, and threw himself upon the enemy.

One plunge of the blade in the animal's side made it yell like a thing possessed. Then Bob dug his thumbs into the lynx's neck and pressed his fingers into its throat, pulling towards him with all his might, to drag the animal from his friend.

The knife was still sticking in the wound, and as the lynx felt another enemy above her, she momentarily turned her attention to the one above, while she struck with her claws to deliver herself from the fingers that were choking her.

That was Alf's chance. He plucked at the hunting-knife, and plunged it into the wild animal with three rapid thrusts.

Then followed another scream more wild and blood-curdling than the rest.

It was a death-cry; for in a moment more Bob stood up, holding a limp body by the neck.

Holden slowly rose from his bed of broken willows, and he grinned as he regarded his clothes--especially the jacket, that hung from his left arm like the evening dress of a Weary Willie.

"Rather the worse for wear and tear!" he remarked with comical ruefulness.

"Which? The clothes or yourself?" questioned Bob, as he threw the lynx's carcase to one side.

"I guess it's the clothes more than anything else. There's a lot of blood about, but that's the lynx's more than mine."

In truth the lad was a strange spectacle, for hardly an inch of his clothes had not been visited by claws or teeth. The boy himself was covered with dust and dirt, while crimson patches of blood completed a picture that was both humorous and pathetic.

Fortunately, both the boys were able to look at the matter from the former point of view. Physical damage was not severe. There was a scratch on Alf's shoulder. Arnold examined it carefully, but decided that no danger was likely to follow, since the claws had pa.s.sed through the leather jacket before touching the flesh. As a precaution against blood-poisoning, he insisted upon sucking the wound, after which he bound it with a handkerchief.

"That will be all right, I expect," he said, as the operation was completed. "I don't think we need worry about the other scratches."

"There would have been more--worse ones, probably--if you hadn't turned up," said Alf. "I couldn't get at the beast any way. She seemed to have claws like a porcupine's quills."

"And she knew jolly well how to use them. Do you think she's worth skinning?"

The dead lynx was examined.

"I don't think the hide is worth the trouble," commented Holden. "It's a bit ragged in any case, and the hunting-knife did not improve it. But I'll take the tail as a memento. What about the antelope?"

"Oh, I got him all right. He's lying somewhere in the gra.s.s."

"Good!" exclaimed Alf delightedly. He had soon recovered from the exhaustion of the fight. "That will surprise the paters when they return to grub. And say! I'm as hungry as a hawk. Let's get back to camp. It must be getting on for noon by this time."

"Half-past ten. That's all," remarked Bob, as he looked at his watch.

"Time drags when the appet.i.te's healthy. I vote we leave the antelope where it is for the present, and shoot a few chicken for dinner. It would be a pity for us to try skinning the animal. We might spoil it altogether. I dare say father will do it for us afterwards."

"What about wolves?" questioned Alf.

"Yes, I hadn't thought of them. But I don't think there's much chance of wolves coming in the daytime. It would be safe enough until night."

"Right you are," agreed Alf. "First for the tail of my lynx, and then a bee-line for the camp."

Retracing their path by the buffalo trail, the boys were soon on the home journey again. Five prairie chicken were bagged on the way, and soon the hunters were once more at the camp-ground.

Of course Holden's first move was to strip, plunge into the river, and then robe himself in garments that were less like a rag-picker's bundle.

Meantime, Arnold set to work lighting a fire and preparing the chicken for roasting on wooden spits, as their camping experience had taught them.

By midday the meal was in readiness. The birds were cooked, "biscuits"

were baked in the camp-oven, the fragrant smell of coffee was issuing from a billy-tin, and all preparations completed to welcome the elder hunters.

But time went past, and there was no sign of a canoe on the river.

"I wonder if they have missed their way?" remarked Alf, to whom the waiting was a trial, considering inside calls and tempting odours.

"I don't think that's likely," said Bob. "Your dad and mine are both old backwoodsmen. I'm beginning to think something has happened----"

"An accident?"

"Possibly. But of course we can't tell. But it isn't like them to be late when they promised to be back by noon."

"But then, if an accident has happened to one, the other could always come back and let us know," Alf answered; and his chum returned--

"That's just what I've been thinking. I don't want to frighten you, old man, but I can't help thinking that something has gone wrong with both."

"Perhaps it's the canoe. It might have got damaged. They were exploring new water, you know."

Bob nodded.

"As likely as not. In that case they'll come back by land, and that would take some time, as, of course, they would go much quicker by water. We'll wait a little longer, and if they don't arrive we'd better have our grub. They'll turn up later."

The boys waited as patiently as possible, but ultimately, with no sign of the travellers, they were obliged to dine alone; though the meal was not eaten with customary cheerfulness, for both the boys shared forebodings of troubles to come.