He tried to move, but found he was unable to do so. A heavy beam lay across his chest. With the exception of his head and shoulders he was buried in the wreckage.
As the dust cleared, the place became illumined by the moonshine. On the sudden disappearance of the roof, the light from without had been admitted to the darkened chamber. At once Harry was able to see quite distinctly, and the sight that he beheld was sufficiently alarming to shake the nerves of even the strongest man.
Pinned to the ground, unable to move, he found himself in the midst of a family of leopards. Quite near to him, also half buried in the wreckage, lay the beast that he had shot—evidently the father of the family. Six cubs, half-grown, growled and snarled on the other side of the chamber, and in front of them, her white fangs gleaming in the moonlight, was the mother leopard, fiercely guarding her young.
It was she who had hurled herself at the wall, who had brought down the roof, and who now snarled repeatedly at the boy. It was apparent that the sudden collapse of the building had given the animal a fright. Twice she made as if she would advance, and twice drew back towards her young.
Harry was not able to fire again. The hand which held his revolver was pinned down beneath the fallen beam. He could not move his eyes from the leopard. At the same time, the brute feared to advance.
A sharp jet of fire—it seemed not two paces from the boy's face—a loud report, and the leopard rose upon its hind legs, rampant, terrible and glorious, fighting the air with its fore feet as if in the throes of a struggle with an invisible, all-powerful foe.
THE LEOPARD ROSE UPON ITS HIND LEGS, RAMPANT, TERRIBLE, AND GLORIOUS
Then the brute came down and lay quite still, shot through the brain by a bullet from Jim Braid's rifle.
Quick upon Jim's heels, through the narrow opening in the wall, came the two guides, Cortes leading the way.