three boys reloaded, in the meantime keeping their eyes on the spot where the wildcat had last been seen. The horses were still plunging, but gradually they quieted down.
"I am going to see if the wildcat is really dead," said Dave, boldly. "Even if he's alive, I don't think there is much fight left in him."
"You be careful!" warned Phil. "A wounded beast is always extra savage. He may fly at your throat, and then it will be all up with you."
"I guess we plugged him pretty well," said Roger.
With great caution Dave approached the bushes into which the wildcat had disappeared, and rather gingerly his chums followed him. They could see a trail of blood, which led to the bottom of a hollow between some rocks. Here they beheld the wildcat, stretched out on its side.
"Dead as a stone!" announced Dave, after a brief examination.
"Are you sure?" questioned Phil. "He may be shamming—some wild beasts do, you know."
"No, he's dead,—you can see for yourself."
"What shall we do with him?" questioned Roger, after all were convinced that the wildcat was really dead. "He isn't good for much."
"We could keep the skin—or have him stuffed," suggested Phil.
"Let us take him back to the ranch—so that
