CHAPTER XVII
THE WHIRLWIND BALL OF YELLOW
When the startled cat felt the touch of the raw-hide rope against its leg it made a tremendous leap straight ahead.
"Too late!" clicked Tad. "That loop is taut on you now!"
"M-m-murder! Look out!" bellowed Stacy.
For the cat's leap had carried it straight at the fat boy. In fact one sharp set of claws raked the lad from shoulder to waist, though without more than breaking the skin.
That blow settled Stacy.
"I'm dead—-ripped to pieces!" he yelled.
Without waiting to jump from the tree, Stacy simply fell. Over and over on the ground he rolled until he was a dozen yards away from the tree.
"If you're dead," Tad grinned, "get up and come over here, and tell me about it."