There was Stacy Brown, hatless, his face red and perspiring, and in front of him a snarling bob-cat at bay.
They saw at once that the animal had been wounded, two of its legs apparently having been broken, while blood flowed freely from a wound in its side.
Chunky was prancing about in what appeared to be an imitation of an Indian war dance, now and again darting in and delivering a telling blow with the club held firmly in both hands, landing it on whatever part of the animal's anatomy he could most easily reach. The beast was snapping blindly at the weapon which Chunky was using with telling effect.
The boys in their surprise were unable to do more than stand and stare for the moment. That Chunky Brown had had the courage to attack a bob-cat, even though it already had been seriously wounded, passed all comprehension.
"Stop!" commanded the Professor, finding his voice at last.
Whack!
Stacy landed a blow fairly on the top of the brute's skull, causing the animal to sway dizzily.
Paying not the slightest heed to the Professor's stern command, the excited boy followed up his last successful blow by planting another in the same place.
But the savage little beast, though probably unable to see its enemies, was showing its yellow teeth and squalling in its deadly anger, the jaws coming together with a snap like that from the sudden springing of a steel trap.
"Stand back!" ordered the Professor. "Don't touch him! Get away, boys!"