Suddenly, without any warning, the creeper snapped. With a wild shriek of real terror Billy was hurled to the ground. His last conscious thought was of his old home up in New York State and of who would tell his mother of his fate.
Then like a man in a dream he saw a flash of fire so near at hand that it almost scorched his face. He heard a loud report and a snarling growl of pain and felt something warm and heavy fall with a crushing weight on top of him. Then everything went black.
When he came to he found himself in the center of an excited group. Everybody was shaking Frank’s hand and congratulating him, and the boy, looking very embarrassed, was trying to head off the tide of compliments.
“Oh, you’re all right, then,” exclaimed Harry as Billy opened his eyes on the group in the moonlight.
“W-w-what happened?” gasped Billy, “didn’t that critter get me?”
“No, thanks to Frank,” exclaimed Harry impulsively; “you owe him your life, Billy. He heard your first shot and hurried to your aid and just in time. The critter didn’t get as you call it—didn’t get you, but Frank got the critter.”
“As pretty a shot as I ever saw,” remarked Mr. Chester.
“Oh, pshaw,” said Frank, “I couldn’t help hitting him, he looked as big as an elephant; and besides, if I hadn’t got him he’d have got me.”
“What the dickens was the thing?” inquired Billy, “a lion or tiger?”
“No, but something quite as dangerous—a jaguar,” replied Mr. Chester, “and as big a specimen as I have ever seen.”