The boy plainly saw the tent ahead, but he could not make out the figure of a person near the canvas. Where were Hope-Jones and Ferguson? Could he reach the grove? But of what use to do so, unless they were there to aid him? His heart beat wildly; perspiration flooded his face and stood out in cold beads; he felt cold all over, although he was running at a speed that should have given him fever heat, and the day was very warm.
At that instant a man appeared near the tent, and Harvey gave a yell such as he had never uttered. The man stood out plainly in the afternoon light, and Harvey saw him turn. Simultaneously he heard the footfalls of the animal and the hoarse panting. The grove was near, the tent was near, the man was near, and he was immediately joined by another. They were waving to him. What could they mean?
It was a signal, but he did not understand. The heavy breathing came nearer and nearer. The men were running toward him, throwing their hands out to the left. All at once he understood, and he darted to one side. The second after he did so the crash of a rifle rang out, then the deeper sound of a shot-gun.
When Harvey looked up again Hope-Jones was pouring water on his head and Ferguson was saying:—
“It’s a puma and of the largest size!”
“Well, young man, have you had enough adventures for one day?” asked the Englishman, when the boy sat upright.
“I guess I have,” he replied in a somewhat dazed voice.
“You tackled quite a contract over there,” said Ferguson. “How did it happen?”
Harvey told them, stopping now and then during the narrative, for he was not yet wholly over his fear, nor had he quite recovered his breath.
“I guess you will keep close to us in the daytime as well as at night,” said Ferguson, when he had finished.