Randy did as directed, and there a short distance ahead saw on a flat rock the form of a big lion. The monarch of the jungle stood out boldly. He was looking off into the brushwood and acted as if he were watching something.
“It’s a lion!”
“Exactly! And as they don’t have lions down here in the West Indies, it must be one of those from the Coryanda.”
“That’s right. What shall we do—fire at him?”
“I don’t think it would do much good—at least not from such a distance. If we got closer we might be able to wound him, even if we didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to get closer, with nothing but a pistol to shoot with.”
“Neither do I. But what are we going to do? He’s right in the way of our getting back to the raft.”
Suddenly the boys saw the lion straighten up and get ready as if to make a leap into the brushwood below. Then they were startled as they heard a rustling in the jungle, and the next moment a full-sized goat leaped into the clearing just ahead of them. The animal was evidently full of fear, and knew not which way to turn.
“A goat!”