At that instant the lion made a strong, backward swing, and its claws caught in the professor’s trousers. The beast tried to sink its teeth in the naturalist’s legs, but with a quick movement the professor himself jumped back, and, with his own momentum and that of the lion to aid him, he swung in a complete circle around the limb of the tree, the lion going with him, so their positions were exactly reversed.
“Steady now! I have him!” called Jerry.
The change in the positions of man and beast had given the boy the very opportunity he wanted. The animal was now nearest to him. Quickly raising the rifle, Jerry sent a bullet into the brute’s head, following it up with two others. The lion, with a last wild struggle to free itself, dangled limply from the tree-limb, from which it was still suspended by the professor’s hold on its tail.
Seeing that his enemy was dead, and could do him no harm, the naturalist let go his grip and the big cat fell in a heap on the ground.
“Once more you boys have saved my life,” said the collector, as he mopped his brow, for his exertions in trying to keep free from the beast had not been easy.
“Are you bit much?” asked Ned.
“Nothing more than scratches,” was the reply.
“How in the world did you ever get in such a scrape?” asked Jerry.