game that they could take a shot at. They roused several foxes, for the forest was almost primitive in its wildness, but they did not shoot the prowling creatures, as they were valueless for food or fur.

Tom, however, saw a big, snowy owl, and, as he wanted it for a specimen in his school den, he bowled it over.

“That’ll look great, stuffed and perched on our bookcase,” he said. “It’ll give the place an air of wisdom.”

“It needs it badly enough,” said Bert, “with the small amount of studying you and Jack do.”

“Get out, you traducer!” shouted Tom.

They went on for a mile or two farther, but[105] saw nothing worth their powder or shot, and, at Tom’s suggestion, they turned back.

[105]

“We don’t want to leave Jack alone too long,” he explained.

They thought perhaps they might meet the hermit, or Mr. Skeel and the two cronies, but they neither saw nor heard anything.

Tom was in advance as they neared the place where they had left Jack, and, as he came to a place where he could have a view of the motorboat on shore, and his chum sleeping under a tree, our hero uttered an exclamation of horror.

“What is it?” cried Bert.

“Look! That beast on the branch over Jack’s head!” whispered Tom, hoarsely. “It’s just going to spring!”

They saw a tawny, yellow body, crouched on a limb directly over Jack, and their chum was peacefully sleeping. The back of the beast was toward them, but Tom had a clear view of the raised head. The tail was twitching, and the body quivering in readiness for the leap upon the sleeping lad.

“Shoot!” whispered Dick.

“I’m going to,” answered Tom, and, raising his rifle, he took quick aim and pulled the trigger.

They could hear the thud of the bullet as it struck, and the next instant, with a scream of rage and pain, the beast launched itself into the air.

[106]

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