"Rhoda!" shrieked Bess, "is that a lion?"
"Most certainly, my dear."
"Hold me, somebody! I want to faint," gasped Bess. "And he almost jumped right down our Nan's throat."
"No," said Nan. "Scared as I was, I knew enough to keep my mouth shut."
But none of them were really as careless as they sounded. Rhoda jumped down and hugged Nan. It was true that something might have happened to the latter if the lion had missed his intended prey.
"And we'll have to shoot the poor calf. It's broken its leg," the ranch girl said, after the congratulations were over.
The red and white cow still stood over the calf and bellowed. She would occasionally run to the dead puma and try to toss it; but she did not much like the near approach of human beings, either.
"I tell you what," Walter said, examining the dead puma with a boy's interest: "That was an awfully clean shot, Rhoda. The pelt won't be hurt. You should have this skin cured and made into a rug."
"Oh, yes!" cried Bess. "Take it back to Lake-view Hall with you,
Rhoda, and decorate Room Eight, Corridor Four!"
"Come along, then," the Western girl said, smiling. "We'll ride over to the herd and send one of the boys back to skin the lion and butcher the veal, too. We might as well eat that calf as to leave him for the coyotes."