The whirling, blazing fagot of wood struck the slinking beast full in the side. Frank threw up his gun, ready to shoot should the jaguar, as he feared might be the case, leap at his chum. But there proved to be no need. Instead, the brute was evidently alarmed at this novel weapon, something entirely beyond his ken.
Frank heard him give a snarl that told of mingled rage and fright. Then he made a spring, but away from the fire, and into the dense undergrowth from whence he had just issued so bravely.
Looking around Frank saw that the glade was deserted of four-footed foes. The whirling torches had done the work.
"Bully for us!" shouted the excited Andy, ready to dance in his delight over the success of his labors. "Didn't we send 'em a flying, though? Perhaps they just dare to come snoopin' around here again, when they're not asked! Frank, I guess you nailed that critter, all right. Dast we look and see?"
"Sure we will," returned Frank, instantly. "Pick up another bit of burning wood. Then let me go just ahead of you, so that I can shoot if I have to."
They thus boldly advanced toward the spot where Frank had first sighted the blazing yellow orbs.
"I can see something there!" declared Andy, who possessed sharp eyes.
"Yes, it's the beast, all right. But I can't say for sure whether he's down on his back, or crouching for a spring. Careful, not so fast, Andy." And Frank kept covering the object with his rifle as foot by foot they kept on.
"He's lying on his side! He's a dead duck, all right!" sang out Andy, waving his fire vigorously to and fro.
"You're right, he's stone dead!" observed the other, a touch of natural pride in his voice; for it was no mean feat to kill so ferocious a beast as a jaguar, after seeing only his two eyes shining in the darkness beyond the fire-light.