Bob jumped to his feet and took aim. Five shots followed in rapid succession. Joe continued the defense with his revolver.
When the deadly fire ceased, the tiger cat was literally riddled with bullets. It gave a convulsive twitch and rolled over, dead.
“Finally stopped him,” muttered Joe, his face wet with perspiration. “And a powerful fellow, too.”
“One can do a lot of things if he has to,” remarked Bob, putting his gun back in its holster.
The youths lost no time in getting out of the cave. They would have liked to remain in its cool retreat much longer, but they realized that it was necessary to get back to camp.
“Won’t our dads and the others be tickled beyond words when we tell them we’ve found water!” smiled Joe, as they crawled through the narrow passageway.
“Tickled is too weak to describe it,” said Bob. “I bet old Tishmak will hug us to death.”
At last they reached the outside and turned their footsteps toward camp. It was but a short distance away, beyond the tall precipice at the entrance to the cave. The youths put unusual energy into their legs and in but a few moments were met by all of their friends. Their fathers, in particular, rushed forward anxiously.
“Where have you been so long?” demanded Mr. Holton, vexed to the utmost that the young men should stay away from camp for an indefinite period without giving an explanation of where they were going.