CHAPTER XXIII.
FIGHTING MOUNTAIN LIONS.
“Steady, boy! Steady!” came Jim’s voice from above, vibrant with agitation.
He knew only too well that to the tyro at big game shooting any large animal appears about twice as large and ferocious as it really is. Many lives have been lost and many painful and disfiguring wounds carried to the grave because a man’s nerve has failed him at the critical moment when hunting dangerous game.
“You’re only shootin’ at a mark, boy! That’s all! Hold on ’em now! Hold on ’em!”
Jim’s voice steadied Ralph’s nerves wonderfully. He glanced down the rifle barrel and then, as his finger pressed the trigger the report roared and crashed through the valley.
“Give it to ‘em! Oh, give it to ‘em!” yelled Jim wildly.
Following the two sharp, quick reports and mingling with them came a scream full of ferocious agony. Ralph saw a big, tawny body leap high into the air and then, falling back, begin to claw the earth and stones frantically.
“Look out for the other!” roared Jim, and none too soon, for the female, seeing that her mate was stricken by the brave boy’s shot, now prepared to spring.