“No. Give the others a chance. The one who brings down the beast shall be free from all camp duties until Monday night,” suggested Grace.
“Here! Let me take a shot!” exclaimed Stacy. He raised his rifle, without changing his position at all, and before the girls could ask an opportunity to shoot, Stacy fired three quick shots.
A scream from the cat followed the shots. There was a lively scrambling in the umbrella tree, and the dark object that Hamilton White had pointed out disappeared for a few seconds. The party was too eager to see the result of the shots to take their eyes from the tree for even a second.
“There he comes!” cried Ham. “It’s a hit. Look at him tumble!”
The lion had plunged from the tree and was hurtling down. He struck the ground with a loud whack, landing a few yards from the campfire, where he lay kicking, then straightened out dead.
From the shots and the fall of the lion the coyotes got a fright that sent them scurrying to the shadows.
“Now’s our chance to clear them out! Everybody shoot and shoot fast. No danger of doing any damage, for our ponies are behind us!” ordered White.
“Put down a barrage, you shooters, and give them a kick that will keep them going. I want to go to bed,” cried Stacy. “I never shoot at anything I can’t see. It isn’t sportsmanlike.”
Some lively shooting followed, and the camp and its immediate vicinity was cleared of the vicious visitors in a few moments.
“We must get the ponies up in a hurry now, Lieutenant,” reminded Ham. “You ladies stay out in the open, but keep together with rifles at ready. Brown, you stay here and look after them. Shoot if anything develops.”