“Oh, Master Nat, Master Nat! Are you killed?”
“No,” I cried; but I said no more, for there was a savage growl, a snap, and I felt myself seized at the back of the neck and shaken, but the puma had only seized the collar of my loose jacket, so that I was unhurt still.
“What shall I do, Master Nat?” cried Pete.
The puma loosed its hold of the collar of my jacket, and I felt it raise its head as if looking in the direction of Pete, and it growled fiercely again.
“Shoot, Pete, shoot!” I cried, feeling that at all risks I must speak.
The puma’s teeth gripped my collar again, and I could fell its claws glide out of their sheaths like a cat’s and press upon my shoulders, giving me a warning of what the beast could do.
But its attention was taken off directly by Pete’s voice, and it raised its head again and growled at him as if daring him to approach and rob it of its prey.
For Pete cried in a despairing tone—
“I dursn’t shoot, Master Nat, I dursn’t shoot. I aren’t clever with a gun, and I should hit you.”
I knew this was quite true, and that under the circumstances I dared not have fired, so I lay perfectly still, trying to think out what to do, for the animal seemed determined not to leave me, and I began to grow giddy as well as faint.