Meanwhile old Mr. Scrapton and Vincent and Emery stood trembling and waiting for the appearance of the lion, which, judging from the sounds that reached their ears, was busy crunching the bones of the young porker that had been slain for his special benefit.
They didn't know whether to stay where they were or to break into a run. The danger seemed great, but the reward was so tempting that they held their ground.
"He may start to run away," weakly suggested Mr. Vincent.
"I don't think so, now that he's tasted blood, but if he does," said the leader of the party, "we must foller."
"But he can run faster than we——"
"There he comes!"
In the darkness they saw the faintly-outlined figure of an animal clambering over the fence, with growls and mutterings, and hardly conscious of what they were doing, the three men immediately separated several yards from each other and nervously clutched their ropes, ready to fling them the instant the opportunity presented itself.
"There he comes!" called out Mr. Scrapton again; "throw your lassoes!"
At the same instant the three coils of rope whizzed through the air as a dark figure was seen moving in a direction which promised to bring him to a point equidistant from all.