eir guns were not the only ones that were fired. At the
instant the brute was in the act of rising from the ground a second time
for his leap, the sharp report of another rifle was heard. The peril was
so imminent that the lads could give no attention just then to any thing
but the immediate business in hand; but now, seeing their fearful foe
was dead, they knew that it was the third bullet that had done it, and
they glanced around to see who their friend was.

No one was in sight, and they advanced to the carcass, which they were
somewhat timid about touching, even though convinced that it was beyond
the power of doing any more harm. They saw that both of their bullets
had struck the skull, though not at the precise points at which they
aimed. One had passed near the right eye of the nondescript, and must
have inflicted serious injury, but its toughness would have enabled it
to keep up the fight, and to have slain both of the boys before they
could have reloaded and fired a second time.

A little search showed where the fatal wound had been given. Just in
front of the fore leg the lead had entered and gone through the heart.
No animal, so far as known, amounts to any thing after his heart has
been torn in twain, though he may live and move for a time.

"I tell you, Terry, that I don't believe there is another beast in the
country that, after receiving two bullets in the head, like that, could
make such a fight."

"I begs to corrict ye," said the other; "it was three shots, for do ye
not mind that I bored a hole through him when we first made his
acquaintance?"

"So you claimed, but you haven't explained how it was that such a shot
could be made without leaving any wound?"

"It may have healed up since then," suggested the Irish lad, who knew as
well as his companion that the first bullet did not touch the beast.

"I hadn't thought of that," meekly observed Fred; "but there is one
thing certain, that if that last shot hadn't been fired, it would have
been the last of us: where could it have come from?" he asked, looking
around and finding the answer to his question in the sight of Deerfoot
the Shawanoe, who came from behind a clump of bushes on the other side
of the small stream.

Fred uttered an exclamation of delight when he recognized the graceful
young warrior, who was holding the stock of his gun in his left hand,
with the barrel resting idly in the hollow of his right arm. Fred
jumped across the brook, wi