A few more minutes were spent in awaiting any further movements from the defeated, but as none came the victor resumed its feast.
“All over,” Bob muttered to himself. “A swell fight, too. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But say! This fellow would be a fine specimen for Dad and Mr. Lewis. I wonder if I can plug him. Don’t think the dead one will be of much use to them, it’s so badly mauled.”
The moon was still shining down brightly, and it was nearly as light as day. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage. True, it would be much easier to get a good aim at the animal, but the light would make Bob much more easily seen. Still he resolved to chance it.
Gripping his rifle firmly, he parted the bushes and rose to his feet. But the slight commotion caused the tiger-cat to turn about, and rage came into its eyes as they lighted on the youth. What was this new type of creature that had come to interrupt the feast?
Bob raised his rifle to his shoulder and awaited a chance to fire an effective shot. But none came. The great cat crouched to spring.
“I’ve got to get him,” said Bob, gritting his teeth.
Then, as the animal launched itself into the air, the youth took rapid but careful aim and fired.
The bullet sped true, entering the open mouth.
The tiger-cat fell at the boy’s feet, twitched about for a moment, and then lay still.
“Hurrah!” Bob cried, exulted beyond words. “I got him. And what a fine specimen.”