“I yelled in terror as I found myself seized by the shoulder. I remember no more then.
“Friday had boldly rushed to my rescue. He struck the puma over the head with his useless rifle. The beast sprang backwards fully fifteen feet, and prepared to give Friday battle, but the brave fellow was on him, knife in hand, in a moment. Friday told me afterwards that he literally flung himself on the puma. Had he missed his aim, he would never have had another chance, but deep into the monster’s very heart went the dagger, and he never moved a muscle more. Friday was unwounded.”
“And you, Ben?”
“Fearfully cut in the shoulder with the puma’s teeth, cut in the back with the talons of his fore feet, and lacerated in the stomach with his hind. They have an ugly way of cutting downwards with those talons of theirs, few who have felt it are likely to forget.”
Chapter Twelve.
“Wide-rent, the clouds
Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquenched
Th’ unconquerable lightning straggles through
Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls,
And fires the mountains with redoubled rage.”
Thomson.
