There was a sharp crack and a shrill cry, and the wildcat lay still. More than likely its skull was crushed in. Not to take any chances, should the creature be shamming, Harry hastily reloaded, and then, stepping up to the animal, he discharged the gun directly at its head. There was no sign of life. The wildcat was dead. “Thank fortune!” he murmured to himself. “That’s what I call a good job done!” With a bit of cord, Harry suspended the dead body to the limb of a tree, that he might come back some other time and get the skin for its fur, and then he continued on his journey. The excitement attending the journey was nothing compared to what he had just passed through, and he thought no more of the hardships of the walk through wind and snow. He pressed steadily on, and at a little before eight o’clock reached the outskirts of the well-known spot for which he was bound. Coming in sight of the campfire he let out a shout to notify the others of his approach. There was no answer. “Must be in the hut asleep,” he muttered, and pressed forward until the open doorway was reached. But the hut was empty! The camp was deserted! CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SNOW SIEGE ENDED. For the moment Harry was alarmed. What could have become of those left behind in charge of Camp Rest? “Perhaps they grew anxious about Jack and me and have gone out to hunt us up,” he reasoned. “I’ll call them again.” He went out and yelled at the top of his lungs. At first there was no reply, but presently came a call from some distance down the lake. Ten minutes later Andy and Boxy appeared side by side, with Pickles behind them, carrying a heavy string of fish. “We’ve been spearing and snaring fish all afternoon,” explained Andy. “See, we have caught nine, and none of them less than a pound in weight! Where is Jack?” “I left him behind in another camp,” returned Harry. “He isn’t sick or hurt, is he?” cried Andy, quickly. “No, but he’s in charge of three sick young fellows,” and Harry smiled quizzically. “Three sick young fellows,” repeated Boxy. “Whom do you mean?” “Pete Sully, Dixon and Spencer.” “No!” roared both Andy and Boxy. “Yo’ doan’ say,” added Pickles. “If dat ain’t de wuss yit!” They were soon about the campfire, and here, while Pickles cleaned the wild turkeys and fish, Harry told them of what had happened since Jack and he had started out on the search for game. The others listened with deep interest. They were all affected when they learned how the bully and his companions had been found literally starving, and were glad to hear that Jack and Harry had treated them kindly. “It ought to make Sully and the others mend their ways,” said Andy. “It will, if I am not greatly mistaken,” returned Harry. “Certainly, they will never try to harm us again.”