"Whatever is it?" shouted Frank, regarding the strange sight with amazement.
"It's a sea-leopard. Ouch!—he bit me then. Shoot him or something," screamed the professor, scooting round in circles like a professional runner; for he knew that if he stopped the creature would surely nip him hard.
Frank hastily ran into the hut for his rifle and returned in a moment followed by the others. Half the occupants of the camp were out by this time to watch the outcome of the professor's quandary.
Frank raised his rifle and took careful aim—or as careful aim as he could with the professor rushing along at such a pace, but even as the rifle cracked the professor tripped on a snow hummock and down he came. The yell he set up echoed back from the naked, rocky crags that towered at the back of the camp.
"Don't holler so, the creature's dead," cried Frank, as he and the boys came running up to where the recumbent professor lay howling in the snow.
"Oh, dear, I do seem to have the worst luck," moaned the scientist. "First, I'm nearly drowned by a killer whale, then I'm almost pollowed by a swenguin—no, I mean swallowed by a penguin, and now a sea leopard attacks me."
As he spoke the professor got to his feet and the dead sea-leopard, as he called it, fell over on the snow. It was a ponderous creature, much like a seal, but with huge tusks and a savage expression, even in death. It was about five feet in length.
"What made it tackle you?" asked Harry.
"I was down by the beach collecting some curious specimens of polar sea-slugs, when I felt a tug at my coat-tails," said the scientist. "I looked round and saw this creature glaring at me."
"Why didn't you shoot at it?" asked Billy, noting the outline of the professor's revolver under his coattail.