Ever and anon these last would come closer to the tree, as they nibbled grass or moss, then those fierce eyes burned more fiercely, and the cat-like tail of a monster jaguar moved uneasily as if the wild beast meditated a spring.
But the ponies, sniffing danger in the air, perhaps--who can tell?--would toss their manes and retreat to the shadow of the rocks.
Had the dog not been there the beast would have dared all, and sprung at once on one of those nimble steeds.
But he waited and watched, watched and waited, and at long last his time came. With a coughing roar he now launched himself into the air, the elasticity of the branch giving greater force to his spring.
Straight on the shoulders or back of poor Boz he alighted. His talons were well driven home, his white teeth were preparing to tear the flesh from the pony's neck.
Both little steeds yelled wildly, and in nightmarish terror.
Up sprang Brawn, the wolf-hound, and dashed on to the rescue.
Peggy seized her loaded rifle and hurried after him.
Thoroughly awake now, and fully cognizant of the terrible danger, Roland too was quickly on the scene of action.
To fire at a distance were madness. He might have missed the struggling lion and shot poor Boz, or even faithful Brawn.