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Out on the branch of a tree, directly over the animals, was a chunky and powerful looking wildcat, commonly called in that section of the country a bobcat. Its eyes were gleaming wickedly, its teeth were exposed, and it acted as if ready to leap at the throat of one of the horses.

      "Look!" cried Dave, and then, as quickly as he could, he leveled his shotgun, took aim, and fired. The report of the firearm was followed by a blood-curdling cry from the wildcat, and down from the tree limb it tumbled, to roll over and over on the ground between the horses.

      "Oh, what a savage beast!" gasped Phil, and for the instant he was so taken aback that he did not know what to do.

      "He'll drive the horses crazy!" shouted Roger. "Oh, if I could only get a shot at him!"

      What the senator's son said about the horses was true. The wildcat had been badly, but not mortally, wounded, and now it was rolling and twisting on the ground, sending the dirt and leaves flying in all directions. The steeds were in a panic, and leaped and plunged hither and thither, doing their best to break away.

      "I should have waited until we all had the chance to shoot," said Dave. "If I can catch my horse----"

      He got no further, for just then Roger, seeing a chance, rushed in between two of the steeds and pulled both triggers of his shotgun in quick succession. His aim was true, and, hit in the side, the wildcat rolled over and then started to crawl back into some bushes.

      "He is going!" shouted Dave.

      "I must have a shot!" put in Phil, recovering somewhat, and now he blazed away. When the smoke rolled off, the boys saw that the wildcat had disappeared.

      "Where is he?"

      "He went into yonder bushes!"

      "Is he dead, do you think?"

      "I don't know. Be careful, or he may leap out at us."

      Such were some of the remarks made as the 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 the folks can see we really killed him," said Dave. "Then we might have him stuffed and sent to Oak Hall, to put in the museum."

      "Just the thing!" cried the senator's son. "That will please Doctor Clay, I am sure."

      They dragged the wildcat out into the open, and laid it where the horses might see that it was dead. As soon as they were aware of this, the steeds quieted down completely, and the boys had no more trouble with them. Dave and Phil carried the grouse and the fish, and Roger slung the wildcat up behind his saddle, and then off they set for Star Ranch at a gallop.

      "Here come the fishermen!" cried Laura, who was out in front of the ranch house. "I hope you had luck!"

      "We did," answered Dave, gayly. "How is that?" and he held up a string of fish.

      "Splendid, Dave!"

      "And how is that?" he went on, holding up two of the grouse.

      "I declare, some game, too! Why, you've had good luck, haven't you!"

      "Let me see!" said Belle, as she appeared, followed by Jessie.

      "And how is this?" asked Phil, showing his fish and the rest of the game.

      "Oh, how grand!" murmured Belle.

      "What is that Roger has?" questioned Jessie.

      "A wildcat!" cried the senator's son, and, leaping down, he brought the dead beast into full view. All the girls shrieked, and Jessie started to run back into the house. Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Endicott appeared, and then her husband.

      "A bobcat!" cried the railroad president. "I didn't know there were any near this place. A big fellow, too," he added, as he inspected the animal.

      "Did you shoot him, Roger?" asked Laura.

      "We all had a hand in it," answered the senator's son. "Dave gave him the first dose of shot, and then Phil and I got in our work. It was a hard job to kill him, I can tell you," and then Roger told of how the wounded beast had fallen down among the horses.

      "You can be thankful your horses didn't get away," said Mr. Endicott. "I knew of a horse once that was scared by a bear and he ran several miles, and wasn't caught until the next day."

      "Oh, Dave, weren't you scared when you saw him on the tree?" whispered Jessie. She felt proud to think her hero had been the first to shoot at the beast.

      "I didn't give myself time to get scared," he answered. "I just fired as quickly as I could."

      "But supposing the wildcat had jumped on you!" And the girl shivered and caught him by the arm.

      "I should have defended myself as best I could, Jessie."

      "You--you mustn't take such risks," the pretty girl whispered, and looked wistfully into Dave's eyes. "I--I can't stand it, Dave!" And then she blushed and turned her face away.

      "I'll be very careful after this, Jessie--for your sake," he answered, softly and tenderly.

      CHAPTER XXII

      COWBOY TRICKS AND "BRONCO-BUSTING"

      "You boys sure did have a day of sport," said Sid Todd, after he had inspected the fish, the grouse, and the wildcat. "And you've proved that you can shoot," he added, nodding toward the slain beast. "I've known many a putty good hunter to get the shakes when he see a bobcat a-glarin' at him from a tree. It ain't no tender sight, is it now?"

      "Not much!" answered Phil, warmly. He had been as close to getting the "shakes" as any one of the three. "I was glad when I knew he was dead."

      "Something about a bobcat I don't like," went on the cowboy. "We used to hunt 'em--when they got after the sheep some years ago. Once one of 'em jest about got me by the throat, an' I ain't forgitting it! I'd rather face a bear, I think."

      "You mustn't forget that you are to take us to the mountains on a hunting expedition," came from Roger. "We want to get some deer, or an elk, before we go back East."

      "I'll take you--don't worry," answered the cowboy.

      The news soon spread around the ranch that the "tenderfeet" had killed a big bobcat, and all the hands came to get a look at the beast. They praised the boys, and said they must be nervy hunters or they could not have done it. Of course the lads were correspondingly proud, and who can blame them? The animal was prepared for stuffing, and then sent off by express to

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