“Roll to one side!” Tom again called, and his chum understood.
It was probably the only thing that could have saved him, even after Tom’s lucky shot, for the beast still had plenty of fight left in him, and doubtless associated the pain he suffered with the youth on whom he had been about to leap. The creature was trying to reach Jack.
But if the latter could not spring up and run, because of his injured leg, he could roll to good advantage, and this he proceeded to do as soon as he saw the need of it.
Over and over he went, like some living log, down toward the lake shore, and away from the struggling beast.
“Give him another bullet, Tom!” cried Bert. “Finish him off now.”
“Here goes!” exclaimed our hero, and from the muzzle of his repeater he pumped another leaden missile into the brute. He had a clear view now, with Jack out of the way.
The animal sprang into the air, fell back, quivered convulsively, and then lay still. The second bullet had ended its misery.
Tom, Bert and Dick ran up.
“He’s done for,” remarked Bert.