he pain only increased its anger, and with
gleaming teeth it crouched down and made another spring, right for the
boomer's throat.

Crack! crack! twice again the pistol rang out. But the big cat was now
wary and both shots failed to take effect.

The pistol being now empty, Pawnee Brown hurled it at the enraged beast,
striking it in the nose and eliciting another scream of rage.

Then, as the wildcat came on for a final attack, the scout pulled out
his hunting knife.

As the wildcat came down the hand holding the hunting knife was raised,
with the blade of the knife pointing upward.

A lightning-like swing and a thrust, and for one brief instant the
wildcat was poised in the air, upon the very blade of the long knife.

The blow had been a true one, the knife point reaching the beast's
heart, and when the animal fell it rolled down among the leaves, dead.

"By thunder! but that was something I hadn't bargained for!" murmured
the great scout, as he surveyed the carcass. "That's about the biggest
wildcat I ever saw. It's a good thing I didn't meet him in the dark."

Wiping off his hunting knife, he restored it to his belt. Then he picked
up his pistol and started to reload it, at the same time whistling for
Bonnie Bird, who, he felt sure, must be close by.

As Pawnee Brown stood reloading the pistol and whistling for his mare he
did not notice a shadow behind him. Slowly but surely someone was
drawing closer to him. It was Yellow Elk.

The Indian chief was on foot. In his left hand he carried a cocked
revolver, in his right an old-time tomahawk, from which he had refused
to be parted when placed on the Indian reservation.

The redskin's face was full of the most bitter animosity it is possible
to imagine. The glare of wickedness in his eyes fairly put the look that
had lived in the wildcat's optics to shame. His snags of yellow teeth
were firmly set.

He was resolved to kill his enemy there and then. Pawnee Brown should
not again escape him.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE MEETING IN THE WOODS.

After leaving Pawnee Brown, Jack Rasco followed the trail of his horse
through a small grove of trees and along the upper bank of the very
stream upon which the great scout encountered Yellow Elk.

"Blamed ef he didn't go further nor I expected," muttered Rasco to
himself as he trudged along. But the hoof-prints were now growing
fresher and fresher, telling that the animal could not be far off.

The woods passed, h