The infuriated beast was struggling and wiggling to get free from the grip the professor had of its tail. It snarled and growled, now and then giving voice to a fierce roar, and endeavoring to swing far enough back to bite or claw the naturalist.
As for Professor Snodgrass, he was clinging to the tail with both hands for dear life, and trying to keep as far as possible away from the dangerous teeth and claws of the lion.
“Let go!” yelled Jerry.
“I dare not!” shouted the professor. “If I do the brute will fall to the ground and eat me up. I can’t let go, and I can’t hold on much longer. Hurry up, boys, and do something!”
“How did you get that way?” asked Bob.
“I’ll—tell—you—later!” panted the poor professor, as he was swung clear from the ground by a particularly energetic movement of the beast. “Hurry! Hurry! The tail is slipping through my fingers!”
In fact, this seemed to be the case, and the beast was now nearer the ground, while the length of tail the naturalist grasped was lessened.
The big cat-like creature suddenly began swinging to and fro, like a pendulum. At each swing it came closer and closer to the professor. All the while it was spitting and snarling in a rage. Suddenly the professor gave a yell louder than any he had uttered.
“Ouch! He bit me that time!” he cried. “Hurry, boys!”
The lads saw that the situation now had more of seriousness than humor in it. Jerry crept up close and, with cocked rifle, waited for a chance to fire at the beast without hitting the professor.