She stared at him, but when he gave her a shove she realized what he was saying, and made such a spurt as had never before been seen in that dooryard.
The lion watched her go, but made no attempt to follow. His mind was on Leo and on the blow the boy had given him.
He was an ugly brute, and around the circus was known to be the most difficult to manage. Trainer after trainer had tried to break him in, but without effect. Instead of getting more docile, he grew worse.
In his former days he had killed a man, and evidently he was longing for a chance to repeat this bloody tragedy.
He took several steps and tried to get behind Leo.
But the boy was on the alert and ran backward toward the apple tree.
Then the lion crouched for a leap. His immense body was bent low, his tail gave a quiver, and forward he shot toward the very spot where Leo was standing.
But as the lion leaped so did the boy. He turned a graceful curve to the left, out of the brute’s reach, and caught the lowest branch of the tree behind him.
The lion’s nose struck the tree trunk, and he let out another roar of mingled pain and disappointment.
“Didn’t do it that time,” muttered Leo. “What’s the use of banging your nose like that?”