“I must fire,” thought Lane, and bending forward again, the snarling was resumed and he drew trigger.
Almost simultaneously with the shot there was a fierce yell, and the young man received a tremendous blow in the chest, which knocked him backwards right amongst the thick growth; then came a loud rustling, the sound of the animal dashing through the tangle of undergrowth, and then all was still.
“Killed, or escaped wounded?” muttered: Lane, as he gathered himself up, and stood with his gun ready to deliver the contents of the second barrel. But at the end of ten minutes or so there was no sound to break the silence, save a peculiar rending, tearing noise at a distance, followed by a rumbling boom, as of thunder under ground, and a sensation as of the earth quivering beneath his feet.
This passed away, and feeling safe for the moment, Lane opened the breech of his piece, threw away the empty cartridge, and replaced it with one containing heavy shot before stepping up to the tree, and climbing up the trunk easily enough by the help of the cable-like parasite which enlaced its great buttresses.
He had not far to mount, for the main trunk ended about twelve feet from the ground, and after a little feeling about amongst the dense orchid growth, he soon found a position where he could sit astride, and support his back in a comfortable half-reclining posture, perfectly safe from all risk of falling, so that there was every prospect of a good night’s rest.
“I hope they will not fidget about me very much,” he said to himself, as he thought of his companions. Then, utterly tired out, and with his perceptions somewhat blunted by fatigue, he gave his friends the credit of thinking that he would be able to take care of himself, and leaned back.
“Jolly,” he muttered. “Cheap, comfortable lodgings if it don’t rain, and the leopard, or whatever it was, does not come back to turn out this trespasser. Hah! how restful and nice. Can’t fall: but I’m not going to cuddle this gun all night.”
He began to feel about for a place where he could lay the gun down safely, and at the end of a minute his hand touched something warm and furry, which began to stir about and utter a whining, mewing noise.
He snatched away his hand in dread, then extended it again to begin feeling his discovery.
“Pups!” he exclaimed. “Kittens I mean! Two of them; fine fat ones, too. They’re harmless enough if their mother does not come back,” and going on patting and feeling the little animals, he fully realised now the reason for their mother’s ferocity, though he felt that it might have been their father.