He thought, too, of waking Bob, but he knew that this would cause a commotion, which might make the leopard charge without delay. No, Joe thought, neither of these plans would work.
Suddenly his face brightened somewhat. A wild scheme was in his mind. Would it work?
As undisturbing as possible, the boy reached into his pocket and removed the little case of matches. Protected by a tightly fitting cap, they were unaffected by the rain. His movement had been so cautious that apparently the leopard had not noticed.
Knowing that the heat of the atmosphere had dried out his shirt to a considerable degree, he resorted to a desperate measure. With a quick movement he tore the shirt from his shoulders, struck a match, and lighted the cloth.
Almost at once the tiny blaze of the match increased in size until it was quite large. When satisfied that the cloth was burning sufficiently, Joe tied it to a twig and, with all the strength he could muster, threw it at the leopard.
There was a howl of fear and pain, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. The beast had vanished into the blackness of the jungle.
Meanwhile, Bob had jumped to his feet, having been aroused by the howl. He looked inquiringly at his friend.
“Anything wrong?” he queried, removing his revolver.
“Nothing now—I hope,” Joe returned, gazing off into the forest. “A leopard was stalking us. I think he’s gone now.”