CHAPTER XXIV.

A FREE FIGHT.

The sight was one that would have made the nerves of even an experienced hunter thrill with excitement; and we can imagine the effect it must have had upon Oscar, who had never seen anything like it before.

He knew now where the leading buck came from so suddenly. He and the rest of the flock had been down to the valley to slake their thirst at the brook, and were now returning to their feeding-grounds.

Probably the sheep the wolves had killed was a member of the same flock, which had been left behind by his companions. That he had not been attacked while in their company was speedily proved to Oscar’s entire satisfaction.

The hunter did not shoot for two reasons. The newcomers, when they mounted the bluff, stepped up between him and the leading buck, completely concealing him from view; and even if he could have seen him, it was by no means certain that Oscar would have brought him down, for there were others in the flock that were just as large as he was, and whose horns were just as finely developed. It was hard to choose among so many.

While Oscar was running his eye over the flock, trying to make a selection, the big-horns ranged themselves in a half-circle on the edge of the plateau, and snorted and stamped their feet while they watched the wolves at their repast.

The fierce animals evidently did not like the looks of things at all, for they stopped their quarrelling among themselves; and, keeping one eye on the sheep, growled savagely at them, while they made all haste to finish what was left of their breakfast.

Matters stood thus for just about a minute, and then one of the sheep bounded forward with an angry snort; and, lowering his head, struck the nearest of the wolves a blow in the ribs that fairly lifted him off his feet.

As quick as thought the gallant buck turned upon another; but, before he could strike him, the wolves closed upon him and pulled him to the ground.

They did not have time, however, to inflict any serious injury upon him; for he was too promptly backed by every one of his companions.

Rushing forward in a body, they closed upon the wolves from all sides; and Oscar was the amazed spectator of one of the strangest battles that any hunter ever witnessed.

He was deeply interested in it, and so greatly bewildered, besides, that he entirely forgot that he had a loaded gun in his hands.

For a few seconds the combatants were mixed up in the greatest confusion, and it was a wonder to Oscar that the bucks, in their terrific rushes, did not knock one another over; but they seemed to know just where to strike, and every charge they made was followed by a yelp of pain from some unlucky wolf.

The fight had hardly commenced before it became apparent to Oscar that the wolves were getting the worst of it, and would have been glad to escape if they could; but their enemies had hemmed them up against the rocks, and every time one of them attempted to break through the encircling ranks, he was met by a blow that knocked him back again.

Finally, one succeeded in working his way out. Nearer dead than alive, he suddenly made his appearance from beneath the feet of the charging big-horns, and started across the plateau with all the speed he could command; but his pace was not rapid, for the life had been well-nigh knocked out of him by the terrific blows he had received.

He was pursued by a splendid old buck, which came up with him just as he reached the edge of the plateau, and sent him heels over head into the gorge.

In his eagerness to inflict further punishment upon his discomfited enemy, the buck approached within less than twenty-five yards of the concealed hunter before he became aware of his presence.

Then he must have discovered him, or caught his wind, for he stopped suddenly, and, wheeling like a flash, went back across the plateau with short, high bounds, at the same time uttering notes of warning that brought the battle to a close at once.

His companions gathered about him in a frightened group; and Oscar, knowing that in a moment more they would be off like the wind, drew his rifle quickly to his face and pulled the trigger.

The buck which had discovered his presence paid for his vigilance with his life. He fell dead in his tracks, and the others fled with every demonstration of terror.

In less time than it takes to write it, Oscar threw out the empty shell, pushed in a fresh cartridge which he had held in his hand, and, just as the big-horns were about to plunge headlong into the gorge, he made a hasty snap-shot, and had the satisfaction of seeing another of their number fall to his knees; and, after struggling a moment to regain his feet, roll over on his side.

Such luck as this was quite unexpected, and it set Oscar almost wild with excitement.

Leaping upon the plateau, he ran forward to examine the first buck he had brought down, at the same time sending up the hunter’s cry with all the power of his lungs.

“Who-whoop!” he shouted.

“Who-whoop!” came the answer almost immediately.

And, to Oscar’s delight, it sounded close to the foot of the bluff.

This proved that Big Thompson had struck the trail of the big-horns in the valley, and that he was following it up.

“What ye doin’ thar?” asked the guide.

“I have been getting the start of you,” replied Oscar.

“An ye’ve gone an’ skeered away them big-horns, an’ haint got nuthin’, nuther,” said Thompson.

“What’s the reason I haven’t?” shouted Oscar in reply. “I’ve got two sheep—and, I declare, I’ve got a wolf also,” he added, a moment later. “Two of them, and another big-horn, as I live!”

After the big-horns discovered his presence, Oscar had paid no attention whatever to the wolves.

He supposed that they had taken themselves safely off as soon as their enemies stopped pounding them; but just then he happened to cast his eye toward the battle-ground, and discovered, to his surprise, that the conflict had been more desperate than he had imagined.

One of the wolves lay motionless at the foot of the rocks, another was vainly endeavoring to crawl off on two legs, and one of the finest big-horns in the flock was straggling feebly near by.

A merciful bullet from Oscar’s rifle quickly put the wounded sheep out of its misery, and a second shot tumbled over the disabled wolf.

“What in creation are ye wastin’ so much powder fur, up thar?” cried the guide, who was working his way slowly up the side of the almost perpendicular bluff.

“I am not wasting it,” was the boy’s answer. “If you don’t believe it, come up and see for yourself.”

Big Thompson was coming with all possible haste, but he could not scale the bluff as easily as the sheep did, and it was fully ten minutes before he reached the plateau.

Those ten minutes were occupied by Oscar in dragging his game together, and securing the head of the big-horn that had been killed by the wolves.

The guide reached the top at last, and his countenance indicated that he was not a little astonished at what he saw before him.

Leaning on his rifle, he looked first at the game, then at the young hunter, and finally he advanced and shook hands with him.

He was so nearly out of breath that he could not congratulate him upon his success in any other way.

In a few hurried words Oscar told what he had done since parting from Big Thompson three hours before, dwelling with a good deal of enthusiasm upon the courage displayed by the sheep in attacking the wolves, and winding up with the remark that he had no idea that so timid an animal could make so gallant a fight.

“Wal,” replied Big Thompson, who had by this time recovered a little of his breath, “they aint by no means as skeery as ye think. It’s a fact that they’ll ginerally run like the wind if they see a man or get a sniff of him, but they don’t mind facin’ any varmints they ketch on their feedin’-grounds. If you should happen to get one of ’em cornered, he’d double ye up quicker’n ye could say ‘Gineral Jackson.’ I knowed a feller onct who was larruped by an old doe whose lamb he wanted for his dinner, an’ that thar feller was jest my size, an’ they called him Big Thompson.”

“I never heard of such a thing before,” said Oscar, who had always believed that nothing inferior in strength to a bear or panther could get the better of his stalwart guide. “Tell us all about it.”

“That’s all thar is to tell. I plumped the lamb over fust; an’ the doe, she run off. After follerin’ her fur half a mile I found her ag’in, and knocked her over, too; but I didn’t kill her. When I went to take her by the horns she jumped up an’ give me a whack that laid me out flatter’n a slap-jack. When I kinder come to myself, about an hour afterward, I found her standin’ over her lamb; an’ that time I made sure work of her. Now, perfessor, what be ye goin’ to do next?”

“I want to get this game to the camp with as little delay as possible,” answered Oscar. “I have a good deal of work before me, and I can do it now easier than I can after the specimens are frozen. But how are we going to get them to the cabin? Why, those sheep must weigh two or three hundred pounds apiece.”

Oscar had been revolving this problem in his mind while his guide was climbing the bluff, and it puzzled him not a little; but Big Thompson solved it without an instant’s hesitation.