"Who shot him?" cried the Professor, fully as excited as the boys.
"This is a partnership cat," laughed Tad. "We both have some bullets in him. How many did you fellows get?"
"Well, I had one, but he got away," answered Stacy, his face sobering instantly. "And—-and he carried off my rifle too."
"What's that?" demanded Tad.
Chunky explained briefly. But he had little opportunity to talk. Dad, who had been examining the dead lion, straightened up and looked at Tad.
"Good job, boys. It's a dandy. Must weigh nigh onto three hundred pounds. Have much of a tussle with him?"
"Not any. He was dead when he got down to us."
"Very fine specimen," decided the Professor, examining the dead beast from a respectable distance. "You lads are to be congratulated."
"Say, I'm going with you to-morrow," cried Stacy. "These folks don't know how to hunt lions."
"Do you?" demanded Nance witheringly.